


A Monster Has Taken Our Home

by Decent_Arrow78



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Issues, Feelings, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Mind Games, Pregnancy, Ramsay is his own warning, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-01-09 10:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12274206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decent_Arrow78/pseuds/Decent_Arrow78
Summary: Rickon is stuck at Winterfell, and Winterfell belongs to Ramsay Bolton. Osha is supposed to protect him, but she won't be able to do that for long. Jon and the other Starks don't know what awaits them, and Theon tries to forget everything but faces difficulties.





	1. This Isn't Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon remembers how his way to Ramsay has been. He has to meet the new Lord of Winterfell and isn't happy at all. After Rickon is welcomed, Ramsay and Osha spend some time together.

Rickon exactly remembered how he had felt when those unfamiliar men had came out of nowhere to take him along with Osha. As soon as they quickly had pulled the old sack over his head it had became as clear as day, and he had never felt as angry and frightened as he did in this moment. Every single, tiny feeling of being free from cruelty and endless fear had been gone as he had heard himself shout. 

He hadn't only been scared, he had wished that certain memories hadn't been brought back. Rickon had only been a small child when he heard about what happened in King's Landing. He hadn't been given the chance to see his father a last time before it was decided to kill him after he was convicted of treason. Rickon had been too young to understand back then, but he will never forget how much anger had been trapped inside of him.

Osha had struggled against the harsh grip of one man as he had pushed her down to tackle her to the ground. She wasn't a women who gave up easily, in fact, she never did. Osha was a true wildling, she was born in the wild whereas proud lords lived in big, warm castles. They didn't know how it felt to fight for survival, to hunt and to fight with hands and teeth. 

She knew how much her kind was being despised by those lords, and she will never forget how much joy they had taken in killing her ancestors. They may had swords and horses, but without those, they were as weak as a newborn. Still, there was nothing Osha could have done in order to free herself as she had been pinned down. She had snarled and had made attempts to scratch him, but her wrists had soon been tied together like those of the boy she had once protected.

Rickon always felt safe with Osha. At first, her presence had made him anxious after he had heard many stories about evil people who spent their lives in the woods and ate little children alive. As the time went by he knew that those stories were in fact false, and Osha cared for him as much as a mother would for her own son. After being separated from his brother Bran he cried much, even days after it had happened. 

The women was there for him when he needed her the most, when he needed comfort and protection from all those things that happened to his dear family. He never forgot one of them a single time. Each day and each night was being spent with loving his family members from a distance, and deep inside he knew that there will be one day where he will be reunited with them.

But this day seemed far away as he had been told to shut his mouth before he would lose his tongue, and so, without a clue who intended to harm him, he had forced himself to obey. It had been hard enough not to defend himself anymore, or at least to try it. Rickon was stubborn and emotional, and being treated like a stupid animal that couldn't decide for itself was the least thing he wanted. 

Hearing Osha's angry noises that had been muffled by the sack had made him feel even worse, he had never heard her acting like that before. Rickon was still an innocent child, but in that moment he had absolutely understood her rage. Why wouldn't he? They had both been trapped without knowing where they were being brought to. One part of Rickon didn't even want to know.

Before they were being put into this large thing, Rickon had started to groan and curse at the man at his side as he had held him tightly, and he had earned himself a smack to the back of his head. He would allow nobody to treat him this way, and if one of them dared to touch Osha in a way that made her scream he would personally bite their fingers off. 

He hadn't been able tell what exactly they wanted from him and Osha. Had they been the next ones to be executed for crimes they didn't commit? After all this time they had hidden far away, who would have wanted to harm them? And why would his companion be so important to those who came to get him?

Rickon had stopped thinking about a possible reason as he had heard Osha gasp after a smack was heard which was followed by a disgusting laughter. He had wanted to rip them to shreds, and the terrible mistake of calling for his already dead direwolf had made them laugh even louder. Shaggydog hadn't been there anymore to protect him, they had killed him right before they captured them.

Rickon had screamed and cried as he saw his loyal direwolf's head being cut off and taken away. All of his screaming and shouting didn't help him, it had only motivated them further to take the boy and the wildling with them. Osha had worried that he will never recover from that ever again.

It had been dark and cold in this thing, and their way had been more than bumpy. Rickon had started to feel like a pig that was about to be slaughtered, and Osha had to help him calming down as he was on the verge of having a panic attack, kicking around as he cried. Seeing the little boy suffering like that truly broke her heart. 

****

**___**

Rickon felt more and more uneasy as he was being dragged into the room. The fact that he was unable to identify his surroundings properly made him frustrated. He had asked himself several times what he had done wrong throughout his short life. Rickon heard someone chuckle again, and he couldn't make out the words that escaped the man's disgusting mouth. 

They had taken the sack off of Osha's head first, and whatever she saw didn't let her sound very happy. He grew nervous with every second and turned his head, trying to know what was going on. Had the gods decided to punish him? Was this his last day? There wasn't a question that didn't make him tremble with fear. 

The confused boy jerked as he heard the noise of a chair that was being moved, and another person seemed to walk through the room. He never thought that it was possible to be so tense, and his heart was beating faster than ever, as if it wanted to jump from his chest.

Rickon felt something strange as he stood in the room. Although the pure feeling of being there with those evil men around him made him feel deeply uncomfortable, a part of him felt a connection. It wasn't something he considered normal, he wasn't in the best condition at the moment. Was he becoming crazy? Were his feelings just a stupid part of his panic?

"And a boy," Rickon could recognize a voice soon, and his whole body trembled as he heard the man talking right behind him. "Nice and young. The way Karstark likes 'em." Despite being in a state of complete shock, he thought that one of those words sounded very familiar, and he didn't believe that this was a good thing.

Rickon was able to see again after the sack was removed from his head. Breathing nervously, he observed the place around him and came to the conclusion that this was his very home. The walls, the table and even the smell reminded him of the past. Unfortunately, the men before him didn't seem to be distant relatives.

"Who's this?" One of them asked as he slowly walked towards Rickon. Rickon was sure that he heard slight contempt in that new voice. He didn't understand why this person was in Winterfell, what all of them did there while his siblings were nowhere to be found. Where was Sansa? Did they have Bran? And what about Arya? 

"Rickon Stark," the other man said flatly, and Rickon narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion as he was being stared at by this person in front of him. He couldn't tell what he had in mind, and why he pierced him with such a sceptical gaze. The sheer atmosphere scared Rickon only further.

He quickly glanced over to Osha, mutely screaming for help, but there was nothing she could do to get them out of this situation. She remembered how she had promised to protect Rickon, to keep every way of harm away from him. He didn't deserve to be hurt. Hearing about his father being beheaded had been too much already.

The man stepped closer, watching the new boy carefully. "How do I know that's Rickon Stark?" The way he kept speaking started to irritate him greatly, and as the seconds passed, he knew less and less about what was going on. Having the stranger being so close to him was another reason why he slowly became angry.

Ramsay needed proof, otherwise he couldn't decide what had to be done with the poor boy. As suspicious as he may was, _Rickon Stark_ seemed like an interesting person, even if he was possibly nothing more than an annoying child. If Lord Umber had told him the truth about capturing Ned Stark's last living son, Ramsay would probably be more than lucky.

He was grateful for the lovely woman that stood before him. Even if he had promised the other lord to destroy Jon Snow's castle along with his wildling friends, he liked the idea of having one in his possession. After all, the wild ones were the least boring.

Back then when his beloved father was still alive he had sworn to find them. Or at least, send someone to find them. Why searching for days and days, weeks and weeks when he could send some of his loyal men who wouldn't even question him? Ramsay was sure that the little beasts must have been dead, but maybe one of them stood in front of him right now.

Ramsay watched with great interest as the bigger man turned around, only to return with a large object. The black thing was slammed onto his desk, and as Ramsay recognized the head of the dead animal, it became clear. Lord Umber hadn't lied. He noticed the boy's face turning into a rather grumpy expression. 

Ramsay could practically taste their tension as he looked at the head with wide eyes. He gave the man that brought them to him a short, approving look and turned around. Ramsay gave Rickon a smile that wasn't feigned; he felt so wonderful and joyful after finding out about the boy's identity. 

"Welcome home, Lord Stark," he said as genuinely as possible while being completely aware of the fact that Rickon was seized with fright. Ramsay could imagine perfectly how devastated Ned's son must be be after he would realize that Winterfell belonged to a Bolton now.

Rickon and his female friend looked at him as if he were completely insane. Especially Rickon didn't seem to manage processing the fact that he was standing here with so many strangers. He must have thought that Winterfell was still protected by the Starks. What would he say if Ramsay told him that he had married his beautiful sister?

"I hope the ride didn't cause too much difficulty. You must be so agitated. Why don't you take a seat?" Ramsay spoke to him as if he were truly worried about the boy's condition. He could see the way Rickon cramped while the wildling kept her eyes on him sternly. She must be very protective of him.

Rickon didn't attempt to follow his friendly order, instead, he froze in place with his hands turning into fists. His expression hadn't changed, the confusion was spread across his face. How long will it take him to get him talking? Ramsay had his own, individual methods when it came to that. 

"Move your ass, boy," Smalljon Umber snarled behind Ramsay. Despite being utterly amused by Rickon's distress, he turned to face Lord Umber. He had brought him what he had searched for years, but he wasn't fond of other people interfering. 

"Thank you, Lord Umber. I do appreciate the gifts you have given me," Ramsay said calmly before he nodded. "I am in your debt. You shouldn't face any complications on your way back, I trust." It was obvious that the other man wasn't all too happy about being told to leave in a subtle way.

Smalljon nodded back and left the hall as fast as he had entered it. Lord Karstark's eyes were fixed on Rickon, and Osha gave him a dangerous glare as soon as she noticed. Ramsay didn't care about that trifle and was more than relieved to have them for himself now. 

"You are back, Lord Stark. Tell me, how many years have passed since you have left Winterfell?" Rickon glanced over at Osha a second time, but both knew that they were stuck in this horrible situation. His eyes fell on Ramsay again, and he already knew that the little boy didn't like him.

"What are you doing here?" Ramsay was surprised as he heard Rickon speak for the first time. The anger could be heard in his voice. So many questions were waiting to be answered. It seemed like he had no idea to whom he was talking to.

Ramsay was eager to answer his little question. "I am Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." He emphasized his titles proudly and saw the shock on the boy's face. "You haven't heard?" He contained a chuckle. "Forgive me, I forgot that you couldn't possibly be aware of what had been going on. You look like you have spent months in the woods."

Rickon looked slightly offended, but he came to the realization that he wore dirty, old rags. It was true that he had spent his time far away from Winterfell as Osha had protected him, and he didn't want to believe the words this man said. Winterfell had always belonged to the Starks, to his own family. 

Rickon also began to think that Ramsay could possess information about his siblings. What if they were in the next room? Unable to properly think as he was filled with emotions, he had the urge to ask about them. "Where are the others?" he asked in a nervous tone.

Osha gave him a sharp look, trying to warn him as she already sensed the man's intentions, but Rickon's eyes were on Ramsay. "Who are you talking about, Rickon?" Osha couldn't believe how he was tormenting the boy. She had known terrible men and recognized one when she saw one.

"Why are you Lord of Winterfell?" Osha felt truly sorry for Rickon, he was far too innocent. She was absolutely sure that Ramsay will take advantage of that in order to hurt him. This man didn't seem to be sane. 

Ramsay had a calm face and walked towards his large desk to lean against it as he faced them, placing his hands on the edge. He looked down at the floor and sighed, feigning slight sadness. "After my beloved father was poisoned by his enemies it was my duty to take over as Warden of the North, which also meant to be the new Lord of Winterfell." 

Osha wasn't stupid, but she feared that Rickon was when it came to lies. She promised herself to escape this place, for the sake of Rickon's safety. The great lords of Westeros were lying and deceiving creatures. 

Ramsay left the table and walked towards Rickon and Osha. "We have talked enough about me. Let's talk about you, Lord Stark. Who's this?" Ramsay glanced over at the wildling. Osha would have choked him if her hands weren't tied. She didn't need someone else to talk about her.

"What is your intention, my lord?" Osha wouldn't allow him to toy with Rickon. She managed to control her emotions and would never show fear, especially not in front of him. Ramsay instantly looked at her as he was interrupted, and her face hadn't changed. He was pathetic in her eyes.

"Don't you worry. Rickon will be taken care of. My only intention is to keep him safe now that he has finally arrived," Ramsay answered and gave Rickon a soft smile. _Lying cunt_ , Osha thought. "You reek. I will make one of my female servants give you a bath." 

Osha narrowed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. Now he wanted one of his whores to wash her clean. She snorted. His only goal was to separate her from Rickon. "Thank you very much, my lord, but I won't leave Rickon in your hands. I swore to protect him, and you won't stop me from doing so. You don't frighten me in the slightest."

Ramsay's eyes were wide as he heard her mocking him. She thought that she could decide for herself, the little wild girl. He didn't let himself be irritated, in fact, he had to smirk a little at her defiance. Lord Karstark had remained completely calm and was almost forgotten by Ramsay. 

"Lord Karstark, bring that stinking animal to my servants and tell them to clean her thoroughly." He enjoyed the way Rickon glared at him, the poor child couldn't do anything to stop him. Osha was amused by the way the other lord obeyed Ramsay instantly as he rushed through the hall to grab her wrist. "One word," Ramsay warned as she was about to be brought away, "and I will wash your mouth with soap." 

Osha turned her head to look at Rickon before she was finally brought away. Rickon ended up alone with Ramsay, and the first thing he wanted was to run after Osha and cling to her. He didn't understand why Ramsay had Winterfell. Never had he wanted to run from this place like he did now. 

"Bring her back!" Rickon suddenly demanded with tears in his eyes. The boy was on the verge of becoming furious, and he desperately tried to get rid of the binds around his wrists. Osha was the only friend he had, and Ramsay had been cruel to her. He talked about her like she were a horse, and Rickon couldn't be more angry. "Osha!"

Rickon tried to run after her but was stopped by Ramsay who grabbed his arm to pull him back. He was such a naive, stupid child. If he kept acting like that, Ramsay would teach that brat a lesson. "Shh, shh. She is only taking a bath, there's no need to shout in my hall."

Rickon didn't get it. Why did he have to be here? He still didn't know the reason. A tear ran down his face, and Rickon shut his eyes as Ramsay wiped it off with his thumb. He was not at all like his sister, Ramsay thought. Sansa had been strong and even bold sometimes, whereas Rickon wailed like a baby. 

"Quiet now. You should thank me for saving you from the wild. You would have only frozen to death out there before that wildling would have eaten you." Rickon stared at him, shocked by the words he just said. Osha would never do that. 

"I don't want to be here!" He kept trying pulling his arm away from Ramsay's grip. Rickon would rather sleep in the snow than being here with Ramsay. This wasn't Ramsay's home, it was Jon's and Sansa's, Arya's and Bran's. 

"No?" Ramsay simply asked. The boy really had a temper. He had spent too much time with the wildling. He didn't take Rickon seriously, he was just an angry Stark boy who didn't accept Ramsay's orders. Rickon was sadly important for him, so he couldn't kill him now. He had plans. "Well, follow me then."

****

**___**

After Ramsay had put Rickon in the dungeon, he sat in his chamber, peacefully peeling a fresh, green apple. Rickon had screamed and cursed as he had been locked away, but for now, Ramsay needed some rest from the little nuisance. With a Stark in his possession it will be far more easy to bring Jon Snow to his knees. 

It would be an easy task to trick the bastard as soon as he showed him that he had his little, annoying brother. He couldn't wait to meet him, he must have heard so much about him already. It could have been possible that his disobedient wife hid with Jon, and if that was the case, she would be in big, big trouble. 

Ramsay truly missed spending the nights with Sansa Stark. She was a true beauty and an interesting soul. He was surprised that she hadn't been broken when she had arrived, after all, Lord Baelish had told him so much about the beautiful redhead. 

Ramsay's lips formed a smirk as he remembered their wedding night. She had cried through the whole night after he had been done with her and had allowed her to take a bath the next morning. The thought of his seed staying inside her aroused him, and he had to be careful not to cut himself with the knife that peeled the apple.

A knock on the door interrupted him as he was fantasizing, and a familiar woman appeared. Two men had accompanied her after she had been bathed. Ramsay could tell that his servants took good care of her when they cleaned her. Lord Karstark had also been so kind to follow his orders without a single question. Many would consider him a bootlicker, but Ramsay was more than content with people who obeyed instead of caring for their pride.

Osha jerked after the men finally let go of her to leave after Ramsay gave them a nod. He looked down at his apple again as he used his knife to peel off the skin. "They've cleaned you up nicely," he commented without looking at her. He had already seen that her hair was brushed and her bad smell was gone. Ramsay wouldn't tolerate a wildling in his castle that ran around like one of his hounds.

Osha didn't say anything back, instead, she waited so she could try out her plan. Men were so easy to manipulate, and she had learned all the tricks to keep them in line. Standing straight, she looked at Ramsay's face. "Thank you, my lord." After she had been impolite to him before, he sure wouldn't accept that so fast. But at least she could try.

Ramsay smiled at the way she addressed him and looked up. Her face stayed the same, but something about her was different. He placed the knife on the table and forgot about his little apple. "It seems like you have learned some manners." Osha feigned a smirk and looked down at her feet after she put her hands behind her back.

"I hope you can accept my apology, my lord." She slowly lifted her head and waited for his reaction. Osha knew what kind of behaviour men like him expected. Ramsay looked at her as if he were truly stunned. 

"An apology?" Ramsay's eyebrows were raised, and he looked at her with great interest. The wild woman had decided to play a little game with him, but she should have known that he was the one who made the rules. "Why?" His voice remained soft, and he already planned how he would make her do it.

Osha stepped closer, lifting up her new rags as she lowered herself to sit on Ramsay's lap, facing him. Ramsay smiled at that and let her do it, placing one hand on her back to give her support. She looked into his eyes and then at his lips. "I shouldn't have used those words. What I did was disrespectful." 

Ramsay's cock twitched in his breeches as her lips came closer, making contact with his own. They kissed, and he let out a satisfied sigh as the wildling grabbed his hair. She sure knew how to put on an act, but that didn't mean than he couldn't enjoy her company. He leaned into the kiss and felt her fingers running through his hair.

Ramsay interrupted their kiss and pulled her hair, yanking her head back, and she gritted her teeth while forcing herself to look happy. "You know how to talk, don't you?" Osha bit her lower lip and started to move on his lap, slowly rubbing herself against his erection. Ramsay's eyes almost closed as he let out a moan.

Osha grimaced as he buried his face in her neck, attacking her with kisses. She spotted the sharp knife that was next to Ramsay's plate and put her hand on the edge of the small table, slowly trying to reach it. She wanted to be very sure to distract him in the right way and grabbed his cock, hearing him curse under his breath.

She was so close to being free again as she almost touched the knife. If only Ramsay sat closer to the table. There was no way she could leave Rickon here, he deserved to live with his remaining family. Just as she was about to pick up the knife, her fingers slipped off. Ramsay moved around, placing his arms around her to pick her up. She became frustrated as Ramsay stood up to turn around, walking towards his bed.

Osha tried to wiggle her way out, but she couldn't do anything as she was slammed into the lord's bed. Her back made contact with the soft furs, and she started to regret her decision. She was unaware of the fact that Ramsay played along. Osha smiled up at him as he removed his boots. 

Ramsay joined her on the bed, placing each knee beside her stomach as he lowered himself to sit on her thighs. He put his hands on her body, slowly running them down her sides. He had never fucked a wildling before, but he was open for new experiences. "I thought about your apology," he purred, placing his hand on her right breast.

Osha stared at the hand that was on her chest and felt uncomfortable. She had imagined his death to be easier. Now she was stuck. Ramsay pinched her nipple, and Osha hissed loudly at the sudden pain. He didn't remove his fingers, instead, he twisted her nipple painfully slow, feeling her wriggle under him.

"You'll might earn my forgivness if you are good." Ramsay was rock hard by now, and he positioned himself above her head to get better access to her mouth. He had her now. Osha was under him, she had put herself in this place. As soon as she saw his bulge she knew what he had in mind, and her throat became tight. 

Ramsay didn't need to explain it to her. She wanted to apologize properly, and he gladly gave her the chance. If only the apology were sincere. Ramsay couldn't be fooled by a sneaky wildling. He sensed her humiliation. Pleasuring a lord of Westeros must be a nightmare for a true wildling. But there she was, ready to do anything in order to save a stupid boy.

Osha saw Ramsay's smug face from below, and she forced herself to touch his pants, placing her hand on his bulge. She made slow but firm circles, trying to get him as hard as possible. Osha felt sorry for every female that had to endure him. Nevertheless she pulled out his cock. Ramsay started to moan as her hand stroked him. Precum dripped on her face, and she had to stop herself from grimacing.

"You little whore," Ramsay moaned, and without a warning, he placed his erection in her mouth. Her eyes became wide, and she was shocked as her throat was being invaded. Her reflex tried to get rid of him, and so, she started to choke. Osha grabbed Ramsay's hips, trying to get him to stop. Ramsay only shoved himself further down her throat.

Osha groaned as Ramsay had pushed himself into her. She should have bitten it off instead of letting him in, but now she had to keep her promise. There must be a way to destroy Ramsay. She wouldn't be able to live with the fact that he will proudly remember how he had once used a wildling for his sick pleasure. 

"Now now, you want your apology to be sincere. I know that you can do it," he cooed cruelly. He held her head in place with both hands, slowly starting to thrust. Osha was utterly disgusted by his parts being all over her face and in her mouth. The fucking bastard was worse than she had expected. "Don't forget to breathe." Ramsay chuckled as he noticed her unsteady breathing.

Osha felt sick and dirty. How long did she have to taste him? She should have grabbed the knife instantly to stab him to death. Instead, she ended up with his dick in her mouth. And he wasn't small. 

"Relax your throat," Ramsay instructed. His thrusts remained slow and gentle, and he spotted tears on Osha's cheek. He smirked and thrusted harder, chuckling at the way she whimpered. Too bad that she hadn't been smarter. Osha wanted to scream as her throat was being abused.

Ramsay heard her trying to demand something, but it was completely muffled. He mocked her as he put one hand behind his own ear. 

"What? I can't understand what you are saying when your mouth is full." He tormented the wild woman further, fucking her throat. He hadn't had a good fuck for weeks. Myranda was an expert when it came to pleasure, but stupid Reek had pushed her off. Ramsay hoped that the little coward suffered.

Osha heard Ramsay moan loudly as he came in her mouth, filling her throat with his seed. She felt relieve when he finally left her throat, moving back to lay on the bed. He wasn't even fully undressed. Ramsay's cheeks were bright red, and he panted heavily after burying his cock in a wildling's mouth.

Osha got up from her uncomfortable position and knelt on the bed, wiping disgusting come off her chin as it escaped her mouth. She should get up, grab the knife and ram it into the bastard's eye. Osha wanted to see him dying. Now she got the chance. Ramsay would rest and she could stand up quickly in order to get the knife before he could stop her. Easy.

She saw him closing his eyes after he crossed his arms behind his head. She left the bed as fast as she could, running towards the table. Ramsay immediately opened his eyes to see Osha standing in the room with a knife in her shaking hands. Poor girl. She didn't check him.

Osha rushed forward, raising the knife to ram it into his chest after she had entered the bed again, kneeling above him. Before she could properly stab him, he pulled out his dagger, cutting into her wrist. The knife that was in Osha's hand fell down and landed next to Ramsay's head. 

Osha cursed and held her bloody wrist. How could she forget that Ramsay possibly hid another weapon? He had had his dagger on his back, always ready to use it when needed. Ramsay moved his leg and kicked her in the stomach, making her whine. She was on her back, desperately trying to reach for air as Ramsay's hands were wrapped around her neck.

"I accept your apology," Ramsay taunted and continued to choke her slowly. It seemed like her little plan was useless; she had failed. He wouldn't have killed her now if she had behaved, but she decided to act like a maniac. Osha's eyes were as wide as they have never been, and she made horrible noises as she lost every bit of air.

Osha's last thoughts were Rickon's crying as he had witnessed his direwolf's death. She couldn't save Rickon from Ramsay anymore. Ramsay choked her hard, he was almost done with her. Osha's heart gave out, and her eyes stopped blinking. The girl was dead. Ramsay had killed her in his own bed. He hadn't been so satisfied for a time now.

Now that the wildling was gone, Ramsay had Rickon for himself. He had lost his friend, and Ramsay couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he heard about her tragic death. He was a true master at playing games, and it had been proven that nobody could trick him. Ramsay knew all the tricks. He stood up, walked towards his table and grabbed his half peeled apple.


	2. Sharp Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon meets the hounds. Ramsay reveals what he has planned for the other Starks.

Ramsay settled himself down on the chair after he had returned from the kennels. Cleaning the castle from unnecessary bodies wasn't always a pretty thing to do, but sometimes, there wasn't any other way. In fact, it was a much more entertaining way than to leave them to rot under the ground. The hounds needed a treat now and then, they were precious, loyal beasts after all. Ramsay glanced over at his bed and saw that it had been tidied nicely.

The servant must have been horrified at the sight of blood that was left on his pillow as most of them already knew which lord they were serving. Lucky for him or her Ramsay hadn't gutted Osha like a fish. That would have been a true mess. He liked blood, whether it was from him or someone else. His dogs didn't mind it too, they had devoured the dead wildling as if they were starving. She had had a beautiful body and a nice, interesting face to look at, but she had started to make trouble.

As soon as the little Stark boy popped up in Ramsay's mind he let out a laugh, imagining his reaction to his friend being eaten alive. Unfortunately that couldn't have happened as Osha had been already dead and Rickon was stuck in the dungeon. The boy would have gained so much attention with his crying that his hounds would have attacked him too. At least then Ramsay wouldn't have to listen to his pathetic wailing anymore, but Rickon was an important hostage. 

Ramsay rose, picking up his knife that had been placed on the table before. The stupid girl had tried to stab him which only resulted in the knife landing in his bed. The servants really did pay great attention. Nothing must stay at the wrong place. The knife returned to his belt, and he decided to visit the little brat that sat in the dungeon. It had been tempting to slap him until he became silent as he had rebelled whilst being put down there, but that would ruin his pretty plans. 

Seeing surprised or shocked faces was very enjoyable. His wife's face had looked as if she had seen a ghost when she had been told to take off her clothes. Ramsay had already known that she hadn't been looking forward to their wedding at all, but still, it had been more than priceless. She had been confined to the chamber the whole day and had trembled with fear everytime she had heard someone at the door, fearing that it was her cruel husband. 

He didn't give up on finding her. He knew that he will. Rickon was in his grip, and it would be very, very wise from Lady Sansa to act careful and submissive. She must have already assured herself to be free and safe. Ramsay thought about his little wife everyday. Simply running away from him to be protected by a bastard that called herself his brother, oh, Ramsay already knew how he would punish her for that sneaky action as soon as he has her again. 

He imagined her bent over his lap, whimpering and begging for forgivness as his hand connected with her already bright red ass cheek. Her beautiful, red hair would cover her pretty eyes as her tears landed on his rug that was placed near his bed. But he would take his time to teach her a proper lesson, bring the hand down as she deeply regretted her decision to run away from her lord and husband.

"Forgive me, Ramsay!" she'd beg with her broken voice, shedding more tears as she felt her backside being abused, but he would only punish her further by pressing her face into the furs as he forced her into the bed, reminding her that this was her place. He would whisper into her ear as he slowly pushed himself into her, telling her how much she had to do to appease him. It would take her days, _weeks_ until he would forgive her. Until then, she would need to kneel at his feet and confess how much of a treacherous wife she really was.

Ramsay forced himself to think about those things after he had taken care of Rickon. As frustrating as it was, he left his chamber to go to the cold dungeons, closing the door behind him. He was greeted by a servant who automatically bowed her head as she knelt on the floor to clean a big puddle of wine that had already dried, sticking to the ground. She quickly plunched the rag into the bucket of water that was next to her, trying to get rid of the mess as fast as possible as she realized who stood in front of her.

Instead of walking past her, he stood directly in front of her kneeling form. She glanced up and feared to be punished for being too slow, and she did her very best to finish her task. Ramsay watched her trembling hands. His eyes then observed her body that was covered by a long, dirty dress. He sensed how she grew more and more anxious as he was present. Ramsay simply decided to take his time before he would visit Rickon. "Who is responsible for that mess?"

The servant slightly jerked at his question and looked up slowly, the rag still rubbing the floor. His face remained cold, and her cheeks grew red with embarrassment. She had heard all the stories about girls that were being hunted for pure joy before they were fed to his hounds, and her lips started to quiver. "I don't know, my lord," she almost whispered as tears welled up in her eyes. The frightened servant was so afraid of being punished for a simple word and decided to stay silent after that.

"You don't know? You haven't paid any attention?" She cringed a second time at his tone, making herself small on the ground as she squeezed the rag in her hands. Instead of properly cleaning this mess she only made it worse. Ramsay delighted in her panic and crossed his arms which only seemed to scare her more. It was so easy for him to make others behave that way, and he didn't know why he would stop toying with them. "What do I have to do to make you more attentive, sweet?" he cooed, already planning to ruin her day.

She didn't move at all for a short moment before slowly plunching the rag again, rubbing the same spot over and over again. Not daring to look up at him, she mumbled an apology, struggling not to cry. The girl heard steps, but she didn't look at her lord to see what he was up to. She gasped as she felt how her dress was being lifted up, and her thighs and buttocks were revealed. Her undergarments were the last thing that he didn't remove as he took a look at her shivering thighs. 

Ramsay didn't say anything as he held her dress up and heard her cry. She stopped moving the wet rag and started shaking. The poor girl only tried to make him happy and wanted to please him by doing her task, and now he made her weep. Sometimes he wondered how far he could go with each one of his toys, when they would break. The little, innocent servant was unlucky to be near his chamber.

"Please, my lord..." she kept shedding tears as her skin froze. She didn't know what to do, what she could do to show him how sorry she is. What if her lord decided to take her to the woods? To put her on that cross that was seen on his banners? The fact that he hadn't said anything made her so scared that she feared for her bladder. "Don't... please. Forgive me, my lord."

Ramsay watched her crumble, thinking about ways to teach his disobedient servant a lesson. He didn't see them as people, no, they were toys and slaves. He crouched down as he was behind her, placing his hand on her thigh as the other held the dress. She was rather thin but had lovely, strong thighs. His hand moved up, reaching her right ass cheek. His fingers played with her undergarments, he toyed with the idea of ripping them off in order to fuck her on the ground. But he didn't have time for that now.

He let go of her dress and stood up. "Lucky for you I have much more important things to attend to today." Ramsay catched her closing her eyes in relief as he walked around to stand in front of her again. What a pitiful girl. The servant watched him with careful eyes, last tears running down her face after that terrifying moment. Before she attempted to finish her task, Ramsay's boot connected with the bucket, knocking it over. The girl watched as all of her clean water was wasted as it landed on the floor. Ramsay gave her a gentle smile and left, grinning to himself.

****

**_____**

Rickon had seethed when Ramsay had locked him away like a dog. He had seen red when he had been told to obey him, a man he had never seen before who claimed to be the Lord of Winterfell. Everything Rickon knew was that the last Lord of Winterfell was a Stark. Whatever happened after he had escaped with Hodor, Bran and Osha was unknown. Why would a Bolton rule over Winterfell? And why was he delivered to Ramsay by an Umber? He had thought that the Umbers supported the Starks, but it seemed that too many things had changed.

He started to move his finger up and down the cracks between the tiles as he nervously sat in the dungeon, worrying about his friend Osha. Rickon's fingers wouldn't stop shaking as terrifying thoughts filled his head. He wasn't able to understand why he was confined to a dungeon that was in his very own home. As the hours had past he had started to panic horribly, crying as he thought about his siblings. Rickon couldn't survive without them, and the thought of one being hurt made him shiver with fear.

His throat had become dry over the hours. Rickon would do anything to get a goblet that was filled with fresh water. He thought about Osha again, praying to the gods to let her be alive. The Bolton had forced her to be silent. What if she disobeyed and made him angry? What if Ramsay returned to hurt him? He had said that he wanted to keep Rickon safe, but why would he do that? He wished that he would know more.

As if he wouldn't be scared enough already, someone entered the dungeon. Rickon turned and held on to the bars instantly, flinching a bit at their coldness. He could see a figure and furrowed his brows as he spotted the self-proclaimed Warden of the North. Rickon's whole body became tense as the other man came closer, eventually standing right in front of the bars to look down at his captive. His first thought was Osha.

Ramsay tilted his head slightly, taking a look at the Stark's shivering fingers. How easy it would be to snap those little fingers. He was still in his dirty rags, coming directly from the wild. Ramsay couldn't care less about the boy though, unlike with a pretty woman, he had no other use for him than to keep him and torment him a bit. Maybe he would throw him into the tub as soon as he started to reek.

The little boy didn't dare speaking, but the confusion and panic was written across his features. It was almost a shame to let him know the truth about his former campanion. They didn't get to see each other after they had been separated. Ramsay held back a chuckle. "Hello, little lord." Rickon didn't like the way he addressed him at all, and his hands squeezed the bars.

Without another word, Ramsay pulled a key out of his pocket and put it in the lock. Rickon didn't expect that at all and observed the other man carefully. After all those lonely hours he had spent in the dungeon he would be free again. Ramsay opened the door and made room for Rickon to come out. He looked up at Ramsay, making sure that he was actually allowed to leave the dungeon. The older lord smiled at him. "Come," he ordered gently, watching as he slowly stood up to do as he was told.

Rickon automatically clutched his own arms as cold hit him again, he froze terribly in his rags. He supposed that his fear was the main cause for this. Rickon watched as Ramsay shut the door, jerking at the loud noise. "Where is she?" he asked before he could think about being careful. His tone was slightly demanding, and Ramsay looked at him again after he put his little key back. Normally someone wouldn't instantly babble after being freed from a dungeon. 

"I suppose that you are talking about your wild friend," Ramsay said with a hint of mockery in his voice. Everything he would tell him now will affect him. He could make Osha's death much more worse than it actually was, causing the boy to have nightmares for days, or he could simply tell him the truth about what his hounds had done to her after she sadly died. "I have come to show you something, Rickon. Follow me." Ramsay turned to go up the stairs. "She's waiting for you," he added.

Rickon couldn't believe it. Osha had survived. A surprised gasp escaped him, and he quickly followed Ramsay. Perhaps Ramsay Bolton wasn't as vicious as he had believed. He was led back to the hall, eagerly waiting to see the wildling. Osha wasn't in sight, and he nervously glanced over at the other man. It was a good feeling to be up here again, the cold air in the dungeon had nearly driven him mad. 

Rickon looked at the walls that reminded him of earlier. He tried to think about how his old chamber looked like, how it must have changed. To snuggle the soft, warm furs that covered the bed in cold nights. Rickon deeply missed the joyful evenings with his family, to savor the fine meals that his mother had prepared, but his memories slowly dissolved as he grasped reality. He yearned for seeing Osha again, and that was one of the last things that gave him hope. 

Ramsay was awfully patient as he ambled through the courtyard. Winter was approaching, and Rickon shuddered as the icy wind hit his face. He could recall everything that happened here, long before it was time for him to leave this place. Rickon had always been cheerful when his brothers taught him to properly shoot an arrow. His siblings had been more skilled when it came to learning things. His fingers had usually been too shaky when he held the bowstring, and his brothers had laughed when he accidentally missed the target. 

Nevertheless, he always looked up to his brothers, he admired them for their strength. Back then when he was little, he didn't pay much attention to his sisters, Sansa and Arya. He felt defenseless at the new Winterfell. Everyone he knew had left. Now he was being, as Ramsay liked to call it, guarded, and it was difficult and frustrating. There were so many questions he wanted to ask him, but right now, Osha waited for his arrival.

Rickon looked down and noticed that a bit of snow covered the ground. It was nearly fascinating how fast the time had passed. Rickon had the old nan in his mind as he kept walking. She had been loving to the Stark children, and she always kept fairytales ready to tell before Rickon eventually went to sleep. He felt beaten at the sight of Ramsay walking through his home.

Rickon saw bars. The new Lord of Winterfell had stopped walking as he stood before the kennels, fully aware of the fact that the little boy couldn't possibly recognize them. Rickon had his eyes on Ramsay and furrowed his brows as he didn't see Osha. He was led to those unfamiliar kennels instead, and as soon as he heard a growl, he startled. Ramsay noticed his worried face and turned to the door, unlocking it to enter the place where his precious hounds were being kept.

Rickon remained puzzled as he watched the other lord mindfully. Why would Osha stand in those dark kennels? "I thought that it would be time for you to meet my hounds," Ramsay announced, holding the door open in order to let Rickon in. The dogs were still caged, but they already snarled and barked as soon as they witnessed the new visitor. Rickon cringed and whimpered as the dangerous animals stared at him while baring their sharp teeth.

"Hounds?" Rickon asked with a shaky voice, watching with wide eyes as Ramsay walked towards the small cages. "But you said that-" Rickon wasn't able to finish his sentence as one of the dogs barked at him loudly through nearby bars. Rickon didn't expect that at all and winced while he mewled. He automatically stumbled backwards after the beast had scared him, and he bumped into Ramsay. The Bolton only grinned and patted his shoulder. 

"They smell your fear," he claimed, ignoring his previous comment. Ramsay was amused by the boy's concern. The Stark hadn't seen animals like that for sure, and he was unlucky to meet them in that number. Shouldn't they be calm before dogs? They owned direwolves after all. Ramsay had already decided to turn Rickon's dead pet into a rug that will warm his feet. "Oh, I remember. Your little friend. Well. She's right here."

Rickon assmued that Ramsay attempted to make him laugh. He looked around with a concerned look on his face. One hound bit the bars as it watched Rickon, and he felt Ramsay's hand on his back, giving him a hard shove to force him to stand closer to the cage. "I am scared." Rickon was shivering terribly, and his remark wasn't doing anything to stop Ramsay from tormenting him. 

Ramsay smiled softly as he stood behind Rickon. He leaned forward until his head rested beside the boy's. "You are looking at her right now." He quickly glanced at Rickon to see his reaction before he watched his animal. Rickon's lips quivered as he slowly came to the realization. Ramsay had lied. Not only did he lie, but he destroyed a part of him. A tear ran down his cheek. "I thought about naming her after her. She really enjoyed her, you know," Ramsay informed nonchalantly as he shrugged his shoulders.

Heartbroken, Rickon glared at the hound that had torn his friend to pieces. The sight was terrifying, and for a moment he believed that his heart would give out. Ramsay was truly wicked. He managed to be so calm and happy while he made an innocent child cry. Ramsay was deeply pleased by the fact that he made his enemy's brother suffer. Jon Snow's face at the sight of that would brighten his mood for days. He had heard so much about the bastard that took great care of his castle and all his loyal crows.

Ramsay couldn't wait to hear him scream in pain. Maybe, maybe even right now, Sansa cried onto his shoulder, telling him how much she had suffered at Ramsay's cruel hands. Those cruel hands would love to remove parts of the Lord Commander's body, preferably while his dear wife watched. Then, he would return with her, introduce her to her little brother and lock her into his chamber afterwards, and he would make sure that she will never leave this place ever again. She will give him lovely sons, maybe a daughter or two, and then they will be the greatest northern family that Westeros has ever seen.

Utterly entertained, Ramsay let his dog growl at the horrified boy. He was quivering as if he had been thrown into cold water and was too weak to reply. It was wrong, terribly wrong. Osha hadn't done anything to deserve such a cruel death. Rickon noticed how Ramsay's hand was touching the bars that contained her and was about to open the cage. "Come, girl," Ramsay spoke to his creature and took a quick glance at Rickon before looking down at the hound again. "You should be careful not to do something foolish. Those teeth are very sharp," he added. "So, if you have considered running away, remember that they will track you down. And if that will be the case..."

Ramsay raised his brows in amusement and scratched her behind her ear. He would only have to whistle or command them to attack the boy, and they would tear him to shreds. Rickon's fear made the hounds bare their teeth automatically. Direwolves were much larger, and not even they had managed to intimidate him like that. Rickon stared at Ramsay, begging with his eyes not to meet the same fate as his former friend did. He wasn't able to tell if Ramsay wanted to let him live at this point. "I will not run away," he said quickly, and he was boiling inside. He despised it to obey the man.

Ramsay didn't look up as he was busy petting his beast. "Good choice. This is your home. It would be wise to stay here." He eventually looked at Rickon. It must be humiliating for him, having to sleep in a dungeon whereas Ramsay spent his time in a warm chamber. Soon he will capture his siblings. Ramsay remembered that Rickon was completely oblivious of the fact that his sister had shared the bed with him. "Your sister had beautiful red hair," he said and watched the boy's face drop. If he continued tormenting him he would break faster than a stick. 

Rickon stared at Ramsay in disbelief, and he instantly opened his mouth to ask about Sansa. Ramsay though put his finger over his own lips, signalizing to keep his mouth shut. Biting his own lips until they almost bled Rickon watched the Warden of the North guiding his hound towards Rickon. The young boy whimpered and clenched his fists as she sniffed at him, occasionally growling. Ramsay was close to giving his beast the order. A little bite couldn't be bad. Maybe then he would learn to stop questioning him.

"Come. It's time for you to return. You will freeze to death if I let you here." Rickon felt relief as he saw Ramsay sending the hound back to the cage. For a short moment he had believed that this would be his last day, and his heart kept racing. The fact that Osha was dead left him completely devastated, but there was nothing he could do now. He was more worried after he heard Ramsay's remark about his sister Sansa. As soon as Ramsay was done and locked the cage, he walked towards Rickon, putting his arm around his shoulders. They started to walk, and Rickon almost tripped. "It's getting late. Tomorrow you will help me with a few things. Won't you?" 

Rickon glanced at Ramsay as he was suddenly asked to help him the next day. "Help you with what?" Rickon gulped and remembered the hounds. "My lord?" Ramsay smiled at his ability to learn. He was glad that he had someone to toy with again, and he watched the courtyard as he walked through it. The men were quite busy now that it was getting colder and colder everynight, and they had to make sure that their lord wouldn't feel uncomfortable through this time. 

"I'm glad that you asked," Ramsay added. His and Rickon's hair were covered in snowflakes by now. "You are too weak to do what they are doing," he said with slight mockery. "You have no muscles. But that's alright. I need your head. Your memories. Everything you know about your family." Rickon grew nervous as felt the other's hand squeeze his shoulder. "Your sister and I are married. She ran away. Soon I will have her back, and I need you to help me with that. Can you do that for me?"

Rickon was overwhelmed. Sansa was married to Ramsay Bolton? How much time had past since he left Winterfell? And why did he need Rickon to get her back when she ran away in the first place? He wanted to stay with Sansa, not with Ramsay. He was scared. Ramsay said something about memories, and he didn't quite understand things at all by now. Rickon nodded.

"Good. I have another question for you, Rickon. And I want you to be completely honest. Yes?" Rickon nodded a second time and tried to brace himself for the coming question. He felt uncomfortable when he talked about his family. Rickon wanted to ask questions, and he never got to do that. "I want you to tell me about your brother. Bran. Where is he?"

Ramsay had stopped walking and demanded so many things from Rickon. The men didn't bother looking at them before Ramsay would peel their skin off for not doing their task. "I don't know, my lord. I haven't seen him for years." Rickon had tears in his eyes. He felt so small and weak. Why did he want to have the Starks? Ramsay seemed to be serious about the information he needed and grabbed Rickon's wrist. Rickon looked down as his wrist was slowly crushed. His tears threatened to leave his eyes. "What happened to Sansa?"

Ramsay remained calm and he watched as the boy cried. His hand still held his wrist, and he wouldn't let the boy simply run and hide in the dungeon. He had Rickon for a reason. "I ask the questions, remember? Now, tell me one thing. Is Bran alive?" Bran was the last Stark that Ramsay hadn't met yet, at least he thought that he was. He could be important to Jon. Very important, which makes him even more important to Ramsay. "You don't want to answer me?"

Rickon squeezed his lips shut and forced himself to be quiet. Never would he tell Ramsay about Bran. He had killed Osha and possibly hurt Sansa. Rickon was being kept in a dungeon, and he didn't want his brother to meet the same fate. He was stubborn and glared at Ramsay, his sadness had turned into fury. "I won't." Rickon didn't know why he managed to be so brave. Maybe the fact that Sansa escaped Ramsay gave him hope, and he knew that he will find her after he ran away from that monster too.

Ramsay was stunned at the sudden change in Rickon's voice. A few minutes ago he almost pissed himself, and now he dared to withhold important information. The Starks weren't so different, Ramsay realized. But they all cried for mercy at the end. Without a single word, Ramsay shoved Rickon forwards, guiding him back inside. He already knew that Rickon will kneel before him the next day, begging for mercy after Ramsay showed him how he treated those who refused to obey him. Ramsay didn't need to waste words, his actions will be enough. 

****

**_____**

After Rickon was locked back into the cold dungeon, Ramsay sat in the hall where he had received his gifts. He already made plans to get back his beautiful wife. Ramsay wasn't dumb, he knew that she ran to the bastard that hid in the castle, in a castle that swore to protect the kingdoms from creatures that didn't even exist. Rickon, the little brat, had decided to act in a way that Ramsay didn't like at all. It didn't anger him, no, a little kid that thought that it was able to protect his family was pathetic.

He knew that he already made Rickon worry with the fact that he knew about Sansa. Ramsay was annoyed by her little brother and wanted nothing more than to see him getting ripped apart by his hounds. But Sansa, pretty little Sansa, will want to make sure that her brother will be safe. Ramsay considered sending a letter, but not to his wife. The letter will go to Jon Snow. The Lord Commander should know about Ramsay's presence in the North, he should remember his words that he will soon read whenever he looks at his sister.

Ramsay rememberd how he had sent Theon Greyjoy's cock to his father. Sadly, nobody cared about little Reek anymore, not even his own family. He was Ramsay's first creation, his perfect little pet. But when he had returned after smashing Stannis' army, he had realized that his wife ran away along with his disobedient, stinking Reek. The worst part wasn't his toys running away from him, but the death of his Myranda. He had seen her dead body and had instantly called for his men. It was one of the moments where he couldn't have been angrier. 

But those times were over now. Myranda was dead, and Sansa Stark was the most important person to him now. He needed an heir. He yearned for her body in his bed, to press her into the furs as he slowly forced himself into her, to hear her screams being muffled by the pillow. Ramsay had given her pretty cuts on her back. He felt himself growing hard at the thought of Jon seeing those marks on his sister's body. Ramsay wanted to shove his hand down his pants to grab his hard cock, and he stood up from his chair in order to go back to his chamber. 

He had planned everything perfectly. Rickon will eventually talk, and soon, he will have another Stark in his hands. Ramsay could snap their little necks in front of his wife, and he knew that she would never be able to live with the fact that her brothers died because of her stupidity. If Lord Umber wanted Ramsay's help, he needed to get him another gift, and he should better do it quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter.


	3. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay revels in memories. He plans to arrange another meeting with Smalljon Umber. Rickon gets to know how Ramsay punishes those who are disobedient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the tagged characters will appear a bit later in the story. (Just thought about saying that in case someone is confused). Enjoy!

__

_Myranda opened her mouth to let out a breath as she felt Ramsay's body against her own. He had decided to take her outside, not afraid of showing off his property. Her lips turned into a smirk as his mouth attacked her neck, and she closed her eyes with a small moan, grinding Ramsay's hips with her own. It had been a while now since his family had taken over Winterfell. Roose Bolton always gave her certain looks, indicating that he wasn't content with her presence, but she couldn't care less. Bastard or lord, Ramsay was her soulmate, and she would never let anyone take that away from her._

_Ramsay chuckled and pinned her to the stone wall, ignoring the guard nearby. His teeth worked on her neck and shoulder, he took his time to properly mark her as he always did when she came to play with him. She was like a little kitten, playful and dangerous, and it was a combination that made him hard. "Lord Bolton..." Myranda chuckled seductively, aware of the fact that he preferred this title, urging him to go fully wild. The young lord was eager to be inside her, to feel her wet heat around his cock as he made her scream with pleasure. The temptation was greater than it has ever been, and he nearly yearned for the look on the other men's faces as they witnessed their little, dirty game._

_The cold was also responsible for her nipples growing hard, and Ramsay gladly explored the area, moving aside the fabric, using his tongue to make her weak. The kennel master's daughter threw her head back and moaned in a high, desperate tone as he sucked her nipple, burying one hand in his thick, brown hair. Ramsay had seen her getting jealous the day before, she wasn't feeling comfortable with the Stark girl living with him. Myranda loathed his soon-to-be wife, the red-haired whore. The Bolton took great pleasure in demonstrating that she needn't worry about her at all._

_Ramsay kissed her freezing skin, and she felt insanely hot. She was terribly wet, and she was on the verge of begging for him to take her instantly. He enjoyed taking his time to prepare her, smothering her body with kisses and whispering into her ear while she suffered. Myranda was craving his thick cock, and he loved teasing her with the fact that she couldn't bear waiting anymore. Ramsay was the one who decided and allowed, not her. As much as he liked to take her with him when it was time for a hunt, she had to do what he said, no matter how much they seemed to share._

_After they had tracked down poor Tansy Myranda couldn't leave his hands off of him, and she had begged and pleaded to accompany him again in the future. Tansy was her first hunt, and she had been incredibly skilled with the bow. Her bow was one of many reasons why Ramsay was amused by her, he was amazed by her ability to use such a dangerous weapon as a girl. But then, she grew up with the hounds that were given to Ramsay later, and he realized that she had been fearless._

_Ramsay's hand was squeezing the back of her thigh, and he didn't need to order her to lift up her leg to give him better access. His other hand was working on the laces of her dress, and he was fully hard by the time he had made her ready for him. Ramsay let out a moan at the sight, hungrily kissing her chest as he pushed his cock into her. Myranda laughed and moved her hips, earning more moans from the lord as he finally felt her, and he started to thrust. The castle belonged to him and nobody could stop him from doing what he wanted, and so, he thoroughly fucked her against the wall._

_Myranda moaned as Ramsay took care of her, and she forgot all about her anger about the silly girl. It was her that he truly loved, she had convinced herself, and she pulled his head closer for a kiss, gently biting his lip while he thrusted with passion. They looked into each other's eyes, and Myranda felt herself being close. Ramsay grabbed her breast, hiding his face in her neck as he worked on his last thrusts. She started to moan his name, and he pressed his body into hers as he pleasured her with his length. Myranda's hand tugged at his hair, and she hissed as he suddenly bit her neck._

_It was too much, and she came with a soft moan. Ramsay felt her cunt tightening, and the sensation was enough to make him come with a groan. His seed filled her, and he watched with a smirk as she quickly worked on the laces of her dress, hiding her gorgeous body, acting as if nothing had happened in the courtyard. He pulled himself out and did the same, he had to look presentable. They looked at each other and giggled after they had their fun outside. Ramsay considered himself a lucky man for having her._

Thinking about pleasant memories was soothing for Ramsay sometimes. Some days it can't be helped, especially today. Harald Karstark kept babbling about disloyal houses that Ramsay shouldn't trust, and he couldn't be more bored by his idle talk. As a trusted ally, he should know better than to lecture him on those things. Ramsay wasn't stupid, he had learned plenty thanks to his father. It was very important for every lord to make alliances for the sake of survival. As his father always said; House Bolton became powerful through the help from other great houses.

Still, it was Ramsay's decision which house was to be trusted. Smalljon Umber didn't pledge his banners which did irritate Ramsay greatly, but his gift made up for it. He wasn't fully convinced yet; Ramsay would recommend the other lord to please him with an even more important hostage if he wanted his help. He wasn't fond of disrespectful behaviour, but he couldn't have declined such an offer like Rickon Stark. Ramsay lifted his goblet to his lips and took a sip, tasting the fine, red liquid. He will never understand how such a stupid, little boy was able to survive in the wild.

The goblet was placed back on the table. Ramsay leaned back on his chair, he truly missed the fun he had with his playthings. Each one of them had been unique, and playing his games with them had always been an adventure. Myranda liked to help when it came to his cruel games, little Reek was like another hound, and Sansa was his own, pretty wife. Ramsay took another sip from the wine, and he realized that he had fully ignored Harald's ramblings.

His Reek had been a naughty rat now and then. Ramsay had catched him looking up Myranda's skirts a few times, and she had giggled, taunting the poor pet after she told Ramsay about what he had done because she knew that Reek will be whipped bloody. The fact that his little kitten made him look at her that way intentionally wasn't important for Ramsay, his creature had to bear the punishment. Ramsay took pleasure in seeing Myranda tormenting his pet, it had only made him want to fuck her harder afterwards.

Ramsay had no shame, he had had fun with her at the dinner table while Reek had to scrub the floor clean. She had ridden him while he was sitting in his chair right after he had eaten, and she had moved her delicate hips in such a fine way. The former Ironborn had to witness everything, and one time, when Ramsay had been especially playful, Reek had to pleasure Myranda while he watched. She had enjoyed it very much, and she had been everything but merciful. They had played similar games often, and poor Reek had been forced to do everything what they had wanted. 

And then there was jealousy. A thing Ramsay hated. It was boring, like a parasite that bit your skin. As much as he had liked keeping the kennel master's daughter, she had started to act in a way that was deeply displeasing. Ramsay had subtly threatened to hunt her down, but they had only ended up fucking each other roughly. Myranda had hated Sansa Stark. She had known that Ramsay visited her every night, she was his wife after all, and a husband should be there for his lady, to warm her in the cold nights. Of course, he had warmed up his wife with different techniques.

"Lord Bolton?" The cruel lord snapped out of his exciting thoughts as he heard a familiar voice. He took a quick sip from his goblet, slightly disappointed by the fact that he had other things to attend to and placed it back. Ramsay turned his head and looked at Lord Karstark, raising his eyebrows at him. He sensed frustration coming from the other man and patiently waited. Today was a busy day for Ramsay, he had to deal with the little beast that rotted in his dungeon and arrange another meeting with Lord Umber. 

"Yes?" Ramsay asked, slighty annoyed. He was hungry for any kind of games since he woke up. Ramsay will get the other Stark boy without his help, but measures had to be taken in that case. He thought that he was still wild and free. Rickon Stark was a captive and nothing more in Ramsay's eyes. If he wanted to protect himself he should have considered acting proper in front of him. The boy didn't know what Ramsay was capable of. He ruled over the fucking North, and if Ramsay decided to flay him nobody would be able to intervene. Rickon should plead for mercy.

"I had a question regarding your meeting with Lord Umber," he stated carefully. Lord Karstark seemed to be bothered by the fact that Ramsay could be convinced again, or maybe he was only hungry for another young boy, as Lord Umber had liked to call it. Normally someone would be utterly disgusted by that kind of behaviour, but Ramsay simply didn't care. Ramsay sighed and reached for his goblet, lifting it to his mouth. Why did everyone have questions? 

"And?" Ramsay took a sip without looking at the other's face. He had enough of criticism, he simply didn't need it. Ramsay had been lectured enough by his dear father, and he always had his own ways. This won't change. "Do you doubt that I can make the right decisions? If that's so, Lord Karstark, I can simply tell you that you needn't worry." He paused, taking the last sip. "If we combine our army with his we will destroy the bastard's castle in no time. But I know that he is more dependant on my men than the other way around. Lord Umber simply has to prove himself worthy of getting my help."

Ramsay completely expected Lord Umber to become provoked, but his feelings were none of his concern. He decided to use him as much as the other lord had planned to use Ramsay's army. Ramsay had a battle in his mind for a while now when it came to Sansa's pathetic half-brother, but there were other things to take care of before deciding to attack. How brave will they manage to be if they saw their poor brothers shivering next to him?

Ramsay would plan things carefully though. He will play around with the bastard until he becomes weak enough and loses all of his courage. Maybe a demonstration will be needed when it came to the Stark boys. Ramsay wouldn't hesitate to show that he is serious about getting his wife back. Until then, he will find ways to make Rickon feel weak like a bug, and soon he will obey his every order. His illusion of being independant at Winterfell will fade away in no time. It was all a big game, and the bastard will have the honor to win or lose.

Harald's face turned white. He didn't fully realize how disrespectful he had sounded. "Of course not. I would never doubt any of your decisions," he said quickly, a hint of fear in his voice. Even as an ally, he knew how dangerous the other lord was, and that he could consider himself lucky to sit next to him instead of being flayed. He watched Ramsay's face carefully as he sat back, eying his empty goblet. "What is it that you will require from him? How will it help us in any way?"

Ramsay didn't glance at him for a second as he heard those words. Then, he feigned a smirk that indicated that he was getting annoyed. He didn't need to explain himself. "It will help _me_ to get Jon Snow to surrender. He would never do that on his own, and so, I am forced to catch his little brother that is lost in this wild, dangerous world." Ramsay's smirk turned into a genuine one as he tapped the wooden table with his fingers. "If he's alive, that is. If Rickon Stark was able to survive out there then there's a possibility. And I don't want to miss it."

Lord Karstark only nodded, at least he could prevent making unecessary remarks that way. He gulped nervously, watching the hall. Harald surely wanted to catch another glimpse of the young Stark boy. Ramsay had heard about the way he felt about boys, but he wouldn't get a chance to touch his captive anyway. Ramsay didn't know why he kept sitting here when he could simply return to the dungeon to teach that brat a lesson. His idea was nearly perfect. 

It was silent for a short moment, and the two men weren't bothered by the cold that filled the room. The North was Ramsay's home. Regardless of his army, he knew that he will defeat his wife's half-brother. He wouldn't even need a battle. But if the time arrived, and Jon Snow still insists on having Winterfell, he will calmly let his men storm the Night's Watch and watch as the poor bastard will be trampled to death. There wasn't much he could say to defend himself anyway. He had heard so many stories about the brave warrior and all his wildling friends. Ramsay had even caught one of those.

Ramsay suddenly rose from his chair, standing straight as he was about to make his announcement. Lord Karstark looked up at him attentively. "I will send a raven to Lord Umber as soon as I am finished. He can bring me what I want, and he gets what he requires. It's a fair tradeoff, wouldn't you agree?" The other lord nodded genuienly, eager to help to get rid off the Lord Commander. "And as far as I know, he is good with his sword. Lord Umber loves fighting and killing wildlings, yes? He shall get the chance to do it. Lord Snow won't mind a few dead bodies, will he?" 

Ramsay was utterly amused as he mocked Jon. He was wondering how strong he might actually be. But for now, he had to deal with his little friend that sat in his dungeon. The poor boy must be quite thirsty by now. Perhaps he could earn himself a bit of water. Ramsay wouldn't want Rickon to die yet. Not before he got to use him. He didn't mean anything to him, the Stark was just a helpful tool for him to get his wife back. Ramsay might as well throw him into the kennels as a chew toy for his hounds when things are settled. 

"I'm looking forward to the meeting. You should too, Lord Karstark," Ramsay said and was about to leave in order to visit his captive. Rickon won't be as stubborn as he is now after he learned his lesson. He was just a naive child, even a simple beating could help him to understand his place. But that would be boring. Ramsay finally left the big hall to fetch important things for his little game that will start in a few moments. He was eager as he walked towards the kitchen, already knowing that the boy yearned for a drop of water.

With a smirk, he took a small bottle that was placed nearby, filling it with fresh water that was brought a few days ago. It wasn't much, but it should be enough for the boy. For now at least. Ramsay had left Reek to starve for days until he eventually fed him, and all that he got were scraps or half-rotten food. If he had been especially obedient, he was allowed to eat the skin of his apples. Rickon Stark wasn't his Reek, which was a fortune for the boy, so he would pay more attention before he accidentally breaks him completely. To train someone was hard work. His lovely Sansa learned to be obedient too, but then she decided to run away with his favourite toy. 

Sansa wasn't like Reek at all, but both were at Ramsay's mercy, although Reek had less luck. Certain parts of her body were important for him. She had lovely skin, his hands loved to run down her sides. The sweet girl had always flinched the first few times, even when he had only taken a step towards her, and it had made him chuckle. As the time passed, she had learned to suppress the way her body reacted and stopped shivering. Deep inside she feared him, and Ramsay knew that no matter how strong and brave she thought she was, he controlled her.

Ramsay took a small slice of bread along with the small bottle and left the kitchen. So many memories were in his mind today, he truly missed the old days. Although he had told Myranda that he hated jealousy, he couldn't help but enjoy the desperate look on her face as she had seen him with his bride, fully aware of the fact that he buried his cock in her every night. But as soon as her desperation turned into little lectures it became annoying. Myranda had been naive sometimes. Ramsay enjoyed her company, but he had preferred it when she didn't decide to act like she owned him. No, it was the other way around. She was his possession, and possessions sadly don't get do decide much.

Ramsay went down the stairs and reached the dungeons. Poor Rickon must be lonely, he was the only one who was stuck down there. The Bolton walked towards the bars and saw that the little lord was asleep. He was truly exhausted as he lay on the cold ground, his rags were torn since he arrived and his hair looked like it hasn't been combed for years. But all of this wasn't a wonder after he had spent so much time with a filthy wildling. Now that he rules the North, he won't tolerate those beasts from the wild anymore. They dared to come here and are now under the bastard's protection. He thought that it was truly pathetic.

He could have simply screamed at the boy to wake him up, but instead he opened the door as quietly as he managed. Ramsay entered the little, cold room and stood before Rickon's sleeping form without saying a word. Placing the small bottle and the bread on the floor, he knelt on one knee. He watched the Stark for a few seconds before he placed his hand on his head, slowly running it through his hair. Rickon woke up with a surprised whimper as Ramsay yanked him up as he pulled his hair. He wiggled and groaned as the hand didn't leave his hair, and as soon as he glanced over at Ramsay, his face changed. Rickon hated him, he saw it in his eyes. 

"Good morning," Ramsay said with a soft smile. Rickon furrowed his brows with suspicion and bared his teeth like a dog as he felt the pain coming from his head. His face was bright red as he met the cruel lord again, frustration and anger were both present in Rickon's expression. Ramsay already knew that this would be fun. "Oh. Too painful?" With a sudden move, Ramsay completely let go of his hair which Rickon didn't expect, and his angry face met the ground. Such a stupid child, he thought, as he looked at his furious captive. He hadn't even started. "Sorry about your face." 

Ramsay looked at the little things he had brought and took the small bottle. He saw how Rickon immediately stared at the bottle after he sat up quickly. The boy must have had a nightmare, he was acting as if he had already been punished. Ramsay tsked at Rickon as he opened the small bottle. "Now now, don't look at me like that. Look what I've brought you!" With a grin, he lifted the little thing, holding it in front of the boy's face. Rickon's expression instantly changed, it was obvious that he was desperate for water. He looked up at Ramsay like he was ready to beg. "Hm?" Ramsay's grin widened and he slightly shaked the bottle. 

Rickon was so thirsty that he wasn't able to sleep properly. His night was filled with dreams of his sister Sansa. Although he was not capable of completely remembering what happened, he knew that he was terribly scared. He kept staring at the bottle then quickly glanced at the floor. There was a slice of bread next to Ramsay. Rickon hadn't seen food like that for months, maybe years. Ramsay came down and brought him water and bread. He couldn't believe it.

"If you want water you just have to ask me for it." Rickon guessed that this wasn't as easy as Ramsay said it was, but what else could he do in his position? His throat was horribly dry. Rickon nervously looked at the other man, still unsure. If this was a trick and he would have to keep being hungry and thirsty... But what if it wasn't a trick? Rickon swallowed the lump that was in his throat and considered asking him. He wanted to spit in Ramsay's face, but if he did that, he will starve. 

"Could I... could I have water please?" Rickon asked with a shy voice, but he couldn't hide his confusion. Ramsay knew how much the boy was hating him, but that didn't mean that he couldn't teach him proper manners. He was pleased by the way he did what he had told him to do and held the small bottle in front of his dry lips. Rickon instantly opened his mouth and leaned forward, but then Ramsay held it away from his face. The boy moaned as he grew tired of these games. 

"You forgot to thank me." Ramsay had the urge to empty the bottle right in front of his face. "If I give you water, you say 'thank you, my lord'. Now let me hear it." Ramsay had time, and he was patient with Rickon. The Stark boy boiled, he didn't want to be his little puppet that did everything he asked him for. But the water looked so fresh... 

"Thank you, my lord," Rickon mumbled and desperately waited for Ramsay to give him the water. He was rewarded, and Ramsay tilted the small bottle in order to let Rickon drink properly. He gulped it down as fast as he could, and he had never been so grateful for water as he was now. Ramsay smiled as he greedily drank all of the water and placed the empy bottle onto the ground, next to the bread. Rickon closed his eyes as he felt the fresh water in his throat and sighed. 

Ramsay took the slice of bread, and Rickon's eyes hungrily stared at the food. "You must be hungry too. Here. Eat." He let Rickon snatch the bread out of his hand and stared to eat, and he was more than happy to taste it again. Back then with Osha, he had to eat rabbits and squirrels to survive. Rickon completely forgot how a simple slice of bread tasted. Ramsay stood up and let him finish. The boy seemed to be happy. 

Walking through the dungeon, Ramsay observed the tools that Rickon probably didn't pay attention to yet. The poor lord didn't know what would happen now. Rickon swallowed the last bits of bread and didn't turn around after Ramsay walked towards another spot. He was far too busy with being fascinated by the fact that the Bolton gave him fresh water and food. Maybe he forgot about the way he acted before and decided to forgive him. Who would harm a child anyway?

Rickon heard steps as Ramsay returned to stand in front of him again, but this time, something was different. Ramsay had a long, thin object in his right hand with an 'X' at the bottom. Rickon's face dropped, and he stared up at the other man. Whatever this thing was, it didn't look like it would be used for something good. His fear returned as Ramsay looked down at him with a cold expression. "Do you know what this is for?" Ramsay lifted the object and touched it with his other hand, letting his finger slide over it. "This," he paused, looking at Rickon's frightened face, "is a branding iron."

Rickon's heart started beating faster and faster, and he automatically moved back as he sat on the floor, but the wall that was behind his back didn't save him either. Just as he began to feel better again he became utterly frightened, and Ramsay smirked as he saw his facial expressions. "Shh. If you squirm around too much the mark will get out of place." Completely calm, Ramsay raised his hand and signalized him to be still. He was completely aware of the boy's panic, and he couldn't wait to see the great symbol on his body. 

Rickon started to whimper and shout as Ramsay came closer with the dark thing. Then, he started to laugh. "Now look what I did. I forgot to heat it up." As Rickon heard the word _heat_ he started to tremble. He was more afraid than he was with the dogs the day before. This couldn't be true. Why did he speak of a mark? He wasn't some kind of horse to brand in order to show that it belonged to someone. Rickon's family was ruling here, not the evil lord that grinned down at him.

"No! Please don't do this!" Rickon shouted and pressed himself against the wall as he watched Ramsay heating the branding iron. He noticed the 'X' again, and he realized that he was familiar with this symbol. Coming to the horrifying realization that this was on the banners that were all around the castle, he let out a whimper and clutched his arms, making himself small as he started to cry. The iron slowly turned into a bright color at the bottom, and he already imagined this thing in his skin. He didn't deserve this.

Ramsay only chuckled as he finally heated up the instrument, turning to walk towards his crying captive. The symbol of his own banners will forever be in the boy's skin. He stood before Rickon, holding the branding iron dangerously close to his face, and the Stark already felt the extreme heat just by having it so close to him. He couldn't run away now, he was trapped. "I asked you a question yesterday, but you decided to be rude. You clearly have no idea who I am, and who _you_ are." Ramsay paused.

"I could have killed you, do you know that? The North is mine, and so is everyone who lives here. And you were disobedient when I clearly told you not to be. How does that feel? To know that your own words brought you here?" Rickon buried his face in his hands and weeped. Ramsay wore a cheerful expression and looked at his body. "Where do you want it? On your arm? On your cheek?" His question only made him cry harder. He spotted his ankle and had an idea. "This will hurt a bit," Ramsay said with feigned concern. 

Rickon screamed as loud as had never screamed before as the hot iron met his skin. He had never imagined such pain to be possible. Ramsay was fully convinced that the whole castle heard his screaming now. He was proud as he marked the boy, he will wear his symbol forever. Rickon's foot moved around as he cried, and Ramsay instantly crouched down to grab it harshly, pressing the 'X' into his skin. He finally removed the branding iron and watched with glee as he saw what he has done. The mark was nicely visible on his left ankle.

Ramsay stood up and admired his work from above. "Perhaps your brother will be smarter. Whenever he sees _this_ ," Ramsay pointed at his ankle, "he will remember to be good. You however," he tossed away the iron and watched Rickon cringe ,"were a bad boy. And bad boys have to be punished. Otherwise they won't learn." Rickon didn't even look up as he felt the pain in his ankle that spread in his whole leg as the seconds passsed. He wanted to kill Ramsay Bolton as he heard him speak about Bran. Bran won't get captured. Rickon wouldn't think that this was possible.

Ramsay turned around and kicked away the small bottle that he had left there before as he left the dungeon. The bottle that was made out of glass shattered as it met the wall, and he slammed the door shut with a smile on his face, leaving the boy to cry alone. This sure taught him a little lesson, and as soon as he catched his brother, it will be the most funniest game that he has ever played. Their siblings Sansa and Jon could even play along. Ramsay was fully pleased and went up the stairs.


	4. Salt and Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon and Yara are at Pyke and aren't comfortable with their uncle being the new king. Theon tries to suppress his former self. Ramsay enjoys himself while playing with a servant and prepares a dinner for Rickon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little warning: One scene will be pretty bloody.

Theon listened to the waves that were coming from the sea. The sound of it gave him a feeling of comfort and made him calm. Sitting in the sand with his eyes fixed on the water, he continued to watch as the waves made contact with the shore as they came closer. He felt the wind in his face, and he slightly narrowed his eyes when it became too strong. Absently, his fingers played with the sand, and he sat far enough from the sea so the waves won't wash over his boots. Theon wouldn't mind it, but he preferred to sit at that spot nevertheless.

He almost forgot how Pyke looked like when he had returned. The moment he had stepped into the room, Yara knew that it was him. She had tried to save him from the northern bastard and she had been unsuccessful, but then there he had stood. After all those dreadful years that were filled with torture and humiliation, he had come back to his home as the rightful heir to the salt throne. But the time had passed while he was gone, and another one had come to claim the throne after his father disappeared. 

After his uncle Euron finished his speech while pointing out Theon's past, he convinced the ironborn quickly after bragging about his dangerous journey through the seas and promising to make Westeros fear the Iron Islands like they have never done. His uncle truly knew how to make others believe his words, and he particularly enjoyed taunting his nephew with the fact that he is weak and unmanly. Theon was reminded of his past everyday, it didn't matter if it was Euron or himself, or even his sister Yara who was the only person that truly cared for him. 

There was still a tiny part of the creature inside of Theon. Reek. Ramsay's Reek. Whenever he thought about his former master, he either winced or became paranoid, the fear of him finding him sometimes became so great that Yara had to calm him down before it got worse. Especially the first days were filled with nightmares, and evertime he woke up and remembered that there was a part of him that was missing, he shut his eyes and let his tears run down his cheeks. His sister sat at the edge of his bed as soon as he started to sob. 

It became easier after every day, but he knew that he will never forget Ramsay Bolton. He was a part of him that never left, no matter how much time he spent with his sister or the other ironborn that looked down on him as soon as Euron arrived. Yara told him who he really was, and it took a long time for him to believe it. His name was Theon Greyjoy, and he was the heir to the Iron Islands. Well, he should have been. But the throne was not what he yearned for. Theon wanted to be safe and live without the constant fear of Ramsay appearing to get him. It felt as if he was still inside his mind, laughing at him and telling him what a pathetic and useless creature he is.

Theon was fighting the urge to feel ashamed and bad for running away. Reek was truly devastated and hated himself for betraying his kind master, but Theon didn't have a master. Ironborn were independant and strong, not little creatures or pets. He listened to Yara each day, and he managed to actually believe her words. He will never be able to live like he had lived once, but now he was back. Pyke was his home, and it will never change. 

A hand patted his shoulder, and he instantly reacted by slightly gasping. Theon didn't like it at all to be surprised like that, but he had to endure it anyway. He turned his head to see a familiar face. Theon wouldn't say that he and his sister looked alike, but her face showed him where he was. No Ramsay. Only him and Yara. "Theon?" She wore a stern expression, but the tone in her voice showed concern for her little brother. His sister knew that she can't be too soft with him, otherwise he won't ever get out of his state. Still, she cared for his safety and wellbeing. 

Theon needed some time to fully realize that he was being spoken to and blinked a few times. He couldn't allow himself to be stuck in memories. There was no Reek. Just Theon and Yara, he told himself. Safe. Family. Home. Theon's lips parted, but he remained silent as he always did when he wasn't fully attentive. The wind became stronger again, and Theon quickly looked back at the waves before he watched his sister's gaze.

"I know you don't like to hear it, but you have to come back. It won't make you feel any better if you sit here and stare at the sea." Theon knew that she talked about the little celebration with half of the ironborn shouting around in their drunk state. Since Euron has arrived, the other ironborn were eager to fight for him when it would be necessary. Yara had sat beside him while she drank a bit herself, but not too much. Her brother had felt deeply uncomfortable while being there, it didn't feel right. Yara slightly shook him as her hand was on his shoulder.

Theon preferred to be alone with Yara or sometimes - like today - completely alone. He was overwhelmed by being at the same place as many, many other loud people that didn't even notice his presence. It reminded him of Lord Ramsay having feasts with him being the cupbearer that nobody paid attention to, unless he decided to taunt him right in front of his guests. And then there was Euron, who wasn't particularly fond of his nephew either. Yara liked the company of women, especially at those little celebrations. Theon felt left out, even at Pyke.

"Theon. Please. Just for today. You can't keep doing this. I know that you don't like him, I don't like him either after what he did to father. But you can't hide anymore," Yara reminded him, almost sounding harsh. Theon didn't want to be there, he wanted to do exactly what Yara told him not to do: hide. He wanted to disappear in his room and sleep through the day. There wasn't a point in trying to appear strong anyway. His uncle managed to make him feel useless on a daily basis. 

Theon gulped and looked at the sea. He thought about how it would feel to drown. It would feel horrible at first, but you'll die eventually and forget everthing. Theon shut his eyes in an attempt to suppress those thoughts and looked back at Yara who still looked rather disappointed. He opened his mouth and tried to find the right words. "I don't like it when he shouts." His uncle was horrible enough in his normal state, but having him walking around half-drunkenly wasn't the most pleasant thing. 

Yara sighed and looked down. Sometimes talking to Theon felt like talking to a stubborn child. It was hard enough to make him talk after his experiences, but often, it was draining. She got up from her half-kneeling position and walked around to stand in front of her brother, blocking his view that helped him to escape reality. "You will stand up and come with me now. Don't let yourself be frightened by Euron, words don't hurt, Theon. Just stand up and come." She held out a hand, waiting for the other Greyjoy to rise.

Theon sat in the sand and drew his knees closer, placing his arms around them. He was unsure about the whole situation. Why can't Yara let him be? Theon wouldn't harm anyone that way. It was the best to be silent and stay away. He eventually looked at his sister's hand then at her face. She lifted her eyebrows, looking down at her own hand to signalize him to hurry. With doubt, Theon placed his hands onto the ground and lifted himself up without grabbing her hand. She gave him a nod and started to walk.

As the Greyjoy siblings walked, Theon worried about going back. He exactly knew what would happen when he sat there, and Yara wouldn't have enough time for watching out for him. Theon was truly an outcast, but he was used to it. _I am not Reek._ He kept walking and tried to ignore his urges to run back to the shore. Yara noticed that his pace has become slower by the time they walked, and she glanced over at him. "Theon, please. Everything will be alright. Now stop acting as if that bastard would wait for you."

She had hit him with that sentence. Theon suddenly stopped walking and stared at her as if she had truly hit him in the face. His face turned white, and he heard himself making a noise. Yara realized that she had chosen the wrong words, but she didn't feel pity. It was time for him to let go of the past and be a man, a true ironborn. She watched his head turning into different directions, as if he feared for someone to suddenly appear out of nowhere. "Nothing will happen to you, Theon," Yara stated with her firm voice, urging him to walk. She grabbed his arm and had enough of his behaviour, forcing him to follow her, and he did.

He was full of doubts, and his fear grew as he started to hear the loud voices and laughs. Theon could already see the other men, singing and cheering for whatever they seemed to enjoy at the moment. Some of them turned their heads as they saw the siblings returning, and one man lifted his goblet as he happily shouted in Yara's direction. She ignored it and kept guiding Theon forward before he would run away again. It was an uncomfortable situation, but he finally had to start to calm down. 

Theon felt how his sister's hand left his arm as she reached the place, walking towards the table with her half-filled goblet that she had to leave there after Theon stood up to walk away. He looked around and heard loud voices everywhere, and he tried to spot his cruel uncle in order to know when to hide. Theon tried not to bump into anyone as he tried to follow her, but it became harder as he passed the tables. They instantly recognized Balon's son and mocked him with a greeting. Theon simply ignored their laughing and settled himself down next to his sister as he reached the table.

She took a sip from her wine and looked at her brother who wasn't interested in drinking the liquid. They have already been there the last time, and she had to force him to drink in order to make him calm. Yara wouldn't want to waste her time today, as long as he didn't spend his time sitting in the sand, she would simply wait until the feast is over. Theon had to learn to be an ironborn again, if he wanted it wasn't important. She simply wanted him to forget all about the bastard that cut off his body parts.

Yara and Theon looked at a crowd that was near them, and to their misfortune, his uncle was a part of it. She quickly glanced over at Theon, placing her hand on his wrist. "Don't listen to him." She wanted her brother to understand that he would only make Euron more happy if he kept acting like that. Theon felt insanely uncomfortable and let out a nervous noise as his uncle spotted him from the crowd. Yara quickly withdrew her hand from his wrist and took her goblet, drinking as much as she could before she placed it back on the table with a sigh.

"If that isn't my little nephew. I was afraid that something happened to you after you disappeared!" Theon didn't make eye contact with Euron as he suddenly stood there. His uncle reacted by ruffling his hair, teasing him with things he knew he hated. He was standing behind Yara and her brother, looking down at both at them as they became utterly distressed by his presence. Yara managed to hide it better, but Theon's fingers trembled since his uncle decided to join them. Euron didn't want to miss a chance to toy around with him a bit. "Don't you want to celebrate? Your own uncle has been crowned!"

Theon didn't answer and stared at his goblet, starting to consider to actually drink it like Yara did. He felt how Euron patted his back, intentionally doing it too hard, and he laughed as his nephew whimpered quietly. Theon wanted his uncle to leave him alone, to leave both of them alone. "Uncle, why don't you enjoy yourself with one of your salt wives you claimed you have?" Theon was afraid that his sister might have been too impertinent and stared at her with big eyes. Yara slightly grinned at her uncle, she wasn't afraid of provoking him.

Uncle Euron only laughed at her cheeky remark and pinched her cheek which made her grimace. "But I enjoy myself even more with you, niece! And what would I do without my adorable nephew over there?" He gave Theon a quick look and caught him wincing. It wouldn't take him long to make him cry. Yara wouldn't allow him to go as far as that. He suddenly leaned down while placing a hand on her cheek, whispering into her ear. "But if you like to know more about how I treat my salt wives, feel free to pay your uncle a visit. I assure you that none of them were disappointed, sweet niece." 

Yara felt the urge to slap him and felt her cheeks becoming red with anger. She knew that Euron wasn't particularly sane, but hearing that offer made her want to tear his limbs off. Theon remained silent in his chair, nervously grabbing the edge of the table, not allowing himself to glance over at his uncle. He was glad that he didn't hear everything he said to upset his sister, but he guessed that it was something disgusting. Theon missed the moment he sat in the sand. Yara glared daggers at Euron, almost ready to spit in his face.

She wanted to rise but quickly felt her uncle's large hand around her wrist, stopping her from fully standing up. He chuckled and pushed her down in order to force her to stay where she was. "That's not a nice way of behaving in front of your king, little Yara. Or do I have to teach you a lesson at the sea? I am sure that you manage to hold your breath quite long." Theon automatically whimpered as he heard those threats. Uncle Euron wouldn't drown Yara, would he? 

Yara swallowed her insults and didn't let herself be intimidated. She knew what Euron was capable of, but she wouldn't let him lay a hand on her. Before she did that, she would cut his hands off. He continued to hurt her wrist as he squeezed it, staring at her with a soft smile on his face. His niece had always been a bit feisty, and he wouldn't hesitate to teach her not to be anymore. Yara's face stayed as calm as it could be, although her face remained red. Theon glanced over at her, he hadn't seen her like that for a long time. 

"We will see about that," Euron said and patted her cheek before he finally turned to leave. Yara instantly grabbed her goblet and drank everything that was left, not looking at her brother as she crossed her arms, staring at the table. Theon shifted closer to her, feeling incredibly sorry for her. He didn't like the way Euron talked to her at all, and he worried for her to get hurt by him. Yara noticed that her brother had moved but didn't give him a single look. She didn't want Theon to get even more scared. It was her problem.

"Can we leave now?" Theon dared to ask finally. First, Yara didn't seem to fully listen. She sat up straight and took a deep breath, and Theon saw how the color left her face. Tears were in his eyes, but it wasn't because he feared for himself, but for his sister Yara. She eventually looked at her brother and nodded. Theon wanted to sigh in relief but stayed silent as his sister rose. He was ready to do the same but noticed how she became tense as her uncle gave her another look as he sat at his own table. Yara quickly looked down at Theon. He stood up from his seat and followed Yara. 

****

**_______________**

Ramsay opened the door to check if his servants had filled the tub. Curiosity arised in him as he saw the two girls stepping back from the tub after they had filled it. He recognized a certain maid looking nervously at the floor after she did what she had to do without questioning him. Ramsay turned around to slowly close the door. He wouldn't want to be interrupted. He walked towards the filled tub and noticed how both of the servants were tense. He put a finger into the water, checking if he was content with the temperatur.

He looked up from the tub and watched the meek maids. One of them was very young, maybe younger than his wife. The other one with pretty, dark hair was too familiar. She had cleaned up wine in the hall and he had belittled and taunted her. Ramsay watched both of them with great interest, and both had their hand over the other, looking down at the floor because they couldn't bear his gaze. They should have known better.

"Look at me," Ramsay commanded with a soft voice, and both instantly raised their heads, looking at him with fear across their innocent faces. They truly looked like little angels. He didn't even know their names, which wasn't important anyway. The younger girl had blonde hair and was very thin, almost too thin. "How old are you?"

The blonde girl's cheeks became red and she started to tremble more, and it only made him smile. The poor thing probably didn't know who she was serving and why. "Thirteen, my lord," she answered quickly and obediently. Ramsay raised his brows at the answer, she must be the youngest servant he had at the moment. He continued watching her being frightened. She was so young and for sure naive. 

"Thirteen," Ramsay repeated slowly. It was truly surprising to have such a young girl at Winterfell to serve him. He had many servants, but he rarely paid great attention to them. The girl nodded and clutched her own dress. "You can leave, little bird. I will call for you if I need you." He felt merciful, really. He could have tormented her, but he already had someone different in his mind. And, he wasn't the kind of man who liked children in that way. 

The little girl nodded with a quiet 'thank you' and walked toward the door as fast as she could with bright red cheeks. Ramsay watched as she left the room and chuckled at the way she almost tripped. She had left the room, and now the other, older maid was left. Ramsay observed her from head to toe, remembering their little encounter a few days ago. She appeared to be more calm than the last time, but she was still scared by his presence. Everyone knew what Ramsay Bolton did to girls if they displeased him. They didn't even have to displease him to be tormented. 

Ramsay walked towards her while his fingers danced over the edge of the filled tub. She tried not to jerk like she did last time and waited for his command. The maid hoped to leave soon, but as long as Lord Bolton didn't allow her to go she had to wait. He had decided to take a bath today, and he felt quite playful this morning. Normally he would take off his clothes and get into the tub, but today he wanted things to be different. 

"Come here," Ramsay commanded sweetly, and the servant already started to get distressed. The pretty maid stepped forward until she stood in front of him without saying a word. He was very amused by her submissive behaviour and smirked. "Kneel." His smirk became wider as he saw her face. Ramsay had to think of Reek for a short moment. The little freak whimpered and jerked at every word he had said. The maid knelt before him and looked down at her own lap. 

"I think I need some help with my clothes," he purred, instantly noticing the girl's discomfort that became increased after every second. She looked up carefully, not exactly knowing what she had to do, or, not really wanting what she had to do. Ramsay knew very well how to undress, but he wouldn't mind a little game today. She needed to become more obedient anyway. "Would you help your lord to properly take a bath?"

The maid felt weak and disgusting in her position. What he did last time must have impacted her. She kept looking at him then at his body. It would take her a time until he is fully undressed. The servant would have to be careful to not make his clothes dirty, or else he would punish her greatly. Fortunately, her hands were clean along with her body, and so, she wouldn't get in trouble if she obliged him. She nodded but kept her hands to herself. Unsure of what to do, she waited for him to say something.

Ramsay wondered what took her so long and slightly tilted his head. "Do I have to repeat myself? I don't like that." The softness in his voice made it much more dangerous for her, and she almost moaned in desperation. Why was it her? He could have chosen every other servant to do this task, but he had chosen her. When Ramsay found someone to torment, he didn't like to stop doing so. He always kept going until he broke his toys. 

She nodded at his sweet threat and decided to obey before he drowned her in that tub. She slowly moved her trembling hands, putting them on his belt. After looking up to make sure that she did the right thing, she nervously looked at her own hands before she unbuckled him. Her hands worked on the belt buckle, and it wasn't easy doing so with such shaky fingers. Ramsay watched her as she opened his belt, waiting for her to do the rest.

She wouldn't be able to unlace his jerkin when she knelt on the floor, but she saw that he already did that himself. "My trousers," he said while he was busy with the laces. The maid looked up at him and almost begged for him to let her leave, but it sure wouldn't happen anymore. Her hands were on his thighs, stopping for a moment. She never felt so uncomfortable for a long time, and she almost stood up to run outside. Instead, she worked on his lower clothing, removed his boots and opened his trousers, sliding them down his muscular legs. 

Ramsay had finished undressing his upper body and simply let his clothes drop, smiling down at her as he caught her staring at his body. The only thing that was left on him were his breeches, and he decided to let her do that too. The girl's face was bright red thanks to her embarrassment, and she started to unlace his breeches to slide them down his thighs and calves until they were at his ankles. She didn't dare looking up at him now that he was fully naked.

The maid refrained from glancing at his manhood and forced herself to look away. She didn't know how exactly she felt about the whole situation now, and her heart was beating fast. There was still fear of being punished for something she has done wrong. Ramsay looked down at her, smiling at the way she had to look away. The servant thought that it was time for her to leave in order to let her lord bathe, but he didn't say anything about leaving.

He walked towards the tub and finally got into the warm water, sighing in comfort as it washed over him. The maid's eyes followed him and she was glued to the spot. She didn't know what to do. She saw Ramsay's back and his arm that rested on the edge of the tub while he closed his eyes to relax. "Take off your clothes and get in the tub." The girl stared at him in disbelief which he didn't notice anyway, and she slowly started to undress. It was her turn today. No one was safe from Ramsay Bolton. 

The maid walked towards the tub and took the rag that was at a small table nearby, suspecting that he wanted her to scrub him clean. Ramsay's eyes opened as he felt the water wash over his upper body as she carefully entered the tub, joining him. Her body looked decent, and he kept smiling at her as if everything would be completey normal. Without his command, she plunged the rag into the water and started to make circles on his chest, making eye contact from time to time to see if she pleased him.

It was a strange feeling to be naked inside a tub with him. She didn't even know that Ramsay would allow her to be that close, but she was nothing more than a servant. Her questions would never be answered. She kept scrubbing his upper body with care and felt him shifting slightly. She knelt between his legs and tried to concentrate on her task. After a while, she stopped, and Ramsay looked at her intensively. 

Ramsay placed his hand on her cheek and noticed her face becoming red again. He then guided her toward him until her head was on his chest. The maid lay in the tub with her body against his, her cheek against his wet chest. Ramsay started to play with her hair while the other hand was on her hip. It made him feel powerful to have the young, sweet servant in his grip. She knew exactly that she had to do as he said, and he smiled as he kissed her head.

The girl felt something hard brushing her thigh, and it managed to only increase her fear of the dangerous lord. She had shivered at the thought of him being inside her, and his hand kept playing with her hair. The servant shut her eyes and let Ramsay do whatever he wanted, not noticing that his hand left the tub to reach something that was placed next to his clothes. She hadn't paid attention to his little knife that he had with him at all times. 

He took the little knife into his hand while stroking her back, making sure to not gain too much attention as he held the sharp object in his other hand. Ramsay enjoyed surprises. Her eyes were still closed, and he calmly played with the knife as he sat in the tub. She instantly opened her eyes as she felt a sharp thing on her skin, realizing that it was a small knife that wandered over her skin. Ramsay made sure not to draw blood yet, watching her face turning white as she stared at the knife that danced over her arm. 

"My lord?" She asked with fear in her voice, trembling as the knife kept touching her skin. Ramsay didn't say anything and removed his knife. The maid felt relieved and tried to see what he was planning to do next. Suddenly, a large hand was on her neck, pulling her back to make her kneel between his legs again. Ramsay's hand was around her throat, gently squeezing while watching her face. She started to panic, but he continued to toy around with her. He observed her body and lifted his other hand that held the knife again.

A scream escaped her mouth as the knife made a deep, fast cut on her chest. Blood trickled down and landed in the water, and Ramsay watched as small bits of water turned red. He watched the new scar he has given her and positioned his knife so the sharp end of it was on her skin. Ramsay pressed the knife into her flesh and heard her scream again, trying to wiggle her way out, but his hand held her neck tightly. Another, fast cut was made, this time on her lower stomach, and tears mixed with blood as it left her body. 

She stared down at her own body, seeing her own blood landing in the tub. The innocent maid cried and sobbed, and another whimper escaped her lips as the knife moved up until it reached her face. She had never been so scared as she was now. "Please..." Her begging wasn't taken note of, and the sharp tip pressed into her cheek, causing her face to bleed. Ramsay noticed her beautiful, blue eyes. The hand around her throat had blood on it after her cheek was being cut, and he quickly licked it off of his own skin before it returned to choke her.

The girl kept crying and begging quietly. Ramsay wanted to bathe in her blood. The knife swiftly entered her socket, removing her eye. Ramsay's hands were skilled with removing any kinds of body parts. Her loud screams were pleasant for his ears, and she held her own hand over her absued face to cover her socket, but it didn't help her anymore. Ramsay removed his hand from her throat and brought the knife to it, slowly slitting open her neck. He took his time killing her, watching in amusement as all of her blood filled the tub, dripping on his chest. 

Ramsay closed his eyes and moaned before he watched her bleeding out, and he finished slicing open her skin. The blood escaped her deep cut, and she coughed a last time before her heart gave out. The maid's dead body lay in the tub, continuing to change the color of the water. Ramsay grinned as he took the rag into his hand, scrubbing himself while making sure that the blood was on his body. He had an almost painful erection as he smelled the maid's blood on himself. The next servant would have to take care of that.

Ramsay calmly scrubbed himself all over until he considered himself clean. Of course, his body had a different smell after the little accident, and he reached for his own cock with the bloody rag in his hand, quickly stroking himself, remembering the girl's crying while imagining the look on the faces of the other servants that will see her body afterwards. If someone came near him later, they would recognize the strange smell, not knowing that it was from an unfortunate maid that was cut open in his tub.

****

**_______________**

Ramsay had left Rickon alone the whole day. It was getting late, and he had told his servants to prepare a meal for him and a certain other person. Everything had been brought more than quickly, food and wine were placed on the dinner table without questioning. Ramsay wondered how Rickon had spent his lonely day today. Instead of paying him a visit, he had let his servants give him water before giving him a bath. He had called for a male servant quickly, asking him about how it went. 

His answers pleased Ramsay greatly, and he took a sip from his wine while he thought about his suffering captive that was crying in the dungeon. He had left a mark on his ankle to remind him where he was. Ramsay couldn't wait to see Rickon's surprised face as soon as he saw the delicious dinner. He would feel like a true lord. It was all a part of his game. Rickon will feel torn apart if Ramsay kept doing those things, but this was exactly what he wanted. 

He had commanded his servants to give him proper clothes to wear. For the first time, the Stark won't run around like a filthy wildling from the woods but like a proud little lord. Ramsay started to get impatient as he waited for his only guest to arrive. He looked down at his own plate and saw the fresh meat along with some vegetables. The boy will sure enjoy his dinner and will be careful around him. The last time he got something nice from Ramsay, he ended up crying.

Ramsay looked up from his plate and recognized a boy. Rickon stood in front of him after a maid had accompanied him. He had given her the keys because he knew that she was one of the few trustworthy servants around here. Ramsay nodded and held out his hand. Without a word, the maid walked toward his seat and gave him his keys for the dungeon. Before she walked away, he held her wrist and pulled her down to plant a kiss on her lips. The servant smiled at him and disappeared quickly.

Ramsay watched her go and fixed his eyes on Rickon again. He looked as if he had slept quite awfully. Rickon nervously looked around, spotting the meal on the dinner table. He had been quite hungry, but the last time Ramsay gave him food it didn't end well, and he remembered the mark that was now a part of his skin. He didn't know if he felt frightened or angry because of Ramsay's presence. He simply decided to be quiet and do as he said before he hurt him again.

Ramsay patted the seat beside him with a smile on his face. "Come. It's for you, Lord Stark." Rickon furrowed his brows at the sudden change of his name. He acted respectful, but something didn't seem to be right. Ramsay was a man who toyed around with him, but it was hard and exhausting to constantly figure out what he had planned this time. "It'll get cold," Ramsay added as he saw that the boy didn't move a bit. 

Rickon decided to do what he said and walked around the table to sit beside the Bolton. At least he got to wear warm and comfortable clothes again. He took the fork into his hand, looking at it befote he used it. He glanced over at Ramsay and saw a joyful face. Rickon still didn't understand what Ramsay's whole plan was. It didn't seem like he wanted to kill him. Rickon gave a nod and started to eat, chewing carefully as he tasted the fresh meat.

Ramsay watched him before he ate from his own plate. They kept eating without talking to each other for a time. Then, Ramsay decided to speak. "I can't wait to see your family being reunited." Rickon stopped moving his fork for a second as he heard his words. Did he talk about Bran? Sansa? Perhaps even Jon? Ramsay glanced over at him and didn't see Rickon reacting. Looking down at his own plate, he continued. "We are a big family. Both the Starks and the Boltons share a long history in the North."

Rickon kept listening and stabbed his meat. "As you already know, Sansa is my wife. You are my wife's brother. That makes us a family, Rickon." The Stark didn't like how he called him part of his family after he used a branding iron on him. Ramsay will never be his family. "Your sister can consider herself lucky to have so many brothers. I always wanted a little brother," he took his goblet and took a sip. Rickon was like a ghost, sitting there without saying anything as he slowly chewed. "We can be brothers."

Rickon let the fork drop and heard it making contact with his plate. Ramsay only chuckled and enjoyed the fresh meat. "But of course, your real brother along with your sister will be back at Winterfell again. You will see them again, Rickon. Aren't you happy?" Ramsay slowly turned his head and stared at Rickon, and the boy felt his dangerous glare. If he didn't answer correctly, he would land in the cold dungeon again. 

Rickon nodded quickly and looked at Ramsay. "I am," he said, and Ramsay grinned before he looked down at his plate. Rickon did the same and hoped that this dinner would be over soon. He felt utterly uncomfortable in his seat. Rickon wasn't able to finish his meal and leaned back on his chair, nervously looking around. 

"Good. That makes me very happy too. Winterfell is your home, and there is nothing that I want more than to bring your family together. Your lovely sister and I rule over the North. I will protect each one of you. You don't need to be scared. If you do as I say, everything will be alright." Ramsay had finished and quickly took a sip from his goblet, putting it back after it was empty. "But I don't trust you enough yet. I would let you sleep in your sister's chamber, but you weren't quite friendly to me lately. I want you to understand that you have to earn my trust."

Rickon only thought about his siblings since Ramsay had started to talk about them. If Ramsay's words were true, he would see Bran and Sansa again, maybe even Jon. They would be together like they had been before it all started. He looked at Ramsay and nodded, hoping that he would soon be able to see his family again. Ramsay suddenly rose from his chair and looked down at Rickon.

"Come. You need to sleep. Tomorrow is an important day for both of us." Rickon stood up from his seat and looked at Ramsay, waiting for him to do whatever he did next. He didn't trust Ramsay, but if he knew so much about Sansa and even married her, there was a possibility of seeing her again. Maybe even Bran would return. Even with having Ramsay here, being together with his siblings would be the best at the moment. He followed Ramsay back to the dungeons.


	5. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay sends a raven to Jon Snow and meets Smalljon Umber afterwards. Theon doesn't have luck at his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'll enjoy.

Ramsay reached for a new parchment as he sat by his table with a calm expression on his face. Normally a high lord would pay great attention to his choice of words when he sent a raven, but the receiver of this little letter wasn't someone he really respected nor should get his respect. The bastard that kept his wife from him instead of sending her to him as he should simply had to learn how Ramsay settled things. Jon must thought of himself as a great warrior and a protective brother of his poor, little sister.

The longer his wife hid, the severer her punishment will be, and Sansa already got to learn how he preferred to play his games when he decided to teach her a lesson. The wrong response or an inappropriate behaviour in front of him led to even more pain at night. Ramsay will never forget how she dared to call him a bastard and question his status. The temptation to whip the attitude right out of her was great, and she did get her punishment afterwards, but the sight of the old lady on the cross had been enough to make her weep.

All because of a little candle that his loyal pet had showed him. Before his wife actually escaped, she had tried to run with the help of the old cunt. When Reek had entered his chamber and knelt at his feet with the candle in his shaking, mutilated hands, he had given him a pat on the head for his obedience. The filthy beast decided to betray him eventually after throwing Myranda down which caused her to die. Right after Ramsay returned from the battle, proud and pleased, he had to see her dead body with his own eyes. 

Reek had sworn to be loyal and bit his own sister's hand as she attempted to take him away from him. He had allowed him to be at his wedding, he even got to watch as his master took his friend's virginity, and still, he ran. Not only did he run alone, no, he had his wife with him. Both had betrayed him and were never seen since, but Ramsay knew that the day will come where both of them will regret every single, bad decision. He hadn't heard of his lost Reek, and he didn't really bother to search for him longer after his men had returned with the news.

Ramsay would be comfortable with hunting his little Reek as soon as he found him again. The treacherous worm wouldn't get the privilege of taking another breath in front of his eyes after what happened. He would love to watch him scream for mercy as soon as his hounds started to track him down before they eventually tear him apart. Reek could consider himself lucky to be less important than Sansa Stark. She was the one who was necessary for him to keep the Bolton line alive. It could also be a possibility that his pet was already rotting somewhere after he starved to death in the cold woods.

The ink dried soon, and Ramsay leaned back on his chair as he intertwined his fingers on his lap, reading his own written words that were directed at the Lord Commander. Imagining his threats turning into reality evoked excitement, and he took the thin parchment into his hands, quickly scanning his letter before he would send it to the Night's Watch. The sweet redhead had felt so brave in front of Ramsay as the time past, and now she ended up hiding behind her half-brother's back.

Ramsay truly knew Sansa. Nobody had been so intimate with her than he was, he had touched and kissed, licked and bit every part of her skin. Ramsay had made her incredibly wet with his tongue many times, and she had cried out of shame because her body had reacted that way. Teasing her with the fact that he managed to make her feel however he wanted had always been pleasurable. The innocent, little Sansa had become a woman, a wild wolf that he would love to tame again.

Ramsay smiled contentedly and rolled up the letter. He was looking forward to Jon Snow reading about his brother that was kept in the cold dungeon. It will appear to him as a choice, Sansa or Rickon. The bastard should be wise and hand over his wife if he wanted his baby brother back. What Ramsay eventually planned for the boy will remain a secret. Ramsay was a master at playing games and always got what he wanted. Jon will kneel before him obediently. The North was Ramsay's personal playground, and he could destroy the crow's precious castle along with his pride.

Bran Stark will make the big game even better. Ramsay waited almost desperately for the other lord to return in order to talk about his new friend that will soon arrive if things will go as planned. It was a shame that Ramsay didn't know much about the other boy. Rickon had refused to tell him the details the last time, but now that he had endured his recent punishment it should be easier to get him talking when it was needed. What a lovely reunion it would be. So many Starks that will see each other again after so many years.

He was ready to send a raven. The words have been written, and he exactly knew that his dear wife will remember every single sentence that was on the parchment. The red Bolton sigil was perfectly visible. Perhaps now the brave warrior will pay more attention to the whole situation. He simply can't decide things anymore, not under Ramsay's rule. Jon will regret keeping Sansa away from him the moment he will witness Rickon's and Bran's bones being broken.

****

**____________**

_Innocent, blue eyes looked up at him. His lady had gotten a bath before she entered the chamber. By the look on her face, she already knew what he wanted and expected from her. Their wedding had taken place a few days ago, not even a week has passed. He sat on the bed where he had taken her right in front of Reek not too long ago and smiled softly at the way his wife nervously looked at him. The servants had given her a nice dress to wear for him to rip off. Ramsay toyed with many ideas at the moment, reveling in her little panic that seemed to arise as the seconds passed._

_"My sweet wife," he cooed with malice, bringing his thumb to her bottom lip. Her lips were one of the first things he had taken note of when he met her. He loved the way she became tense when his lips met hers. Both of them knew that Ramsay will have his way again, like he always did. Sansa glanced down at the finger that rested on her dry lip before her eyes were fixed on Ramsay's. Crackling noises were heard from the fireplace, and it all added more to Ramsay's mood._

_He slid his thumb into her mouth and watched her reaction which amused him greatly. Sansa looked up at him in an almost desperate way, as if the little flower didn't know what to do. Ramsay moved his thumb in her moist mouth, giving her the sign to start, and with an agonized whimper, she started to carefully suck. His smirk became wider as she obeyed without a command, quietly sucking his thumb like her life was dependant on it. His finger was soon coated in her spit, and her eyes were closed as she concentrated on her task._

_Ramsay's breath became heavy at the sight of his little wolf kneeling between his legs. His thumb left her mouth. Sansa kept watching her husband carefully, trying to detect other intentions. His hands were on his belt, swiftly undoing it before opening his trousers. Sansa's eyes were glued to his crotch, and she feared to be hurt again, just as he had hurt her before. Ramsay had been waiting for this all day. He was already hard, and he couldn't wait for those pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock._

_Sansa watched as Ramsay freed his erection. "You want to learn how to please me, don't you? It is a wife's duty to make her lord husband happy. Do you want me to be happy?" Sansa shut her eyes as soon as the tears slowly streamed down her face. Ramsay was a cruel husband that enjoyed raping her until she begged him to stop. Her arms had blue spots after he had hurt her with his strong hands. She screamed and cried every night, sometimes even before he arrived because she knew what will happen to her. Ramsay used her as if she were one of his whores. It was not fair._

_He observed the sudden change of her behaviour and watched as the tears fell. Poor thing. Already wasting so many tears before it started. Ramsay simply wiped her tears away and left his hand on her cheek, causing her to look up at him. His hand was so large compared to her face. Sansa's tears finally stopped flowing as she calmed down, and the hand on her cheek gave her a sense of comfort, even if it was Ramsay's. She couldn't bear it anymore._

_"No. Don't cry, love. Look at me." his knuckle was now under her chin and lifted it up, forcing her to make eye contact with him. He smiled and brushed her lip again. "Open your mouth," he instructed way too sweetly. Removing his hand from her face, he watched as she obediently opened her mouth as wide as she could. Ramsay gave himself a few strokes before he would use her mouth for his pleasure, smiling down at her. "Very good." His hand was now on her head, guiding her toward his large cock that was now entering her mouth._

_Sansa automatically tried to get it out of her mouth as her reflex set it. Ramsay's hands held her head in place, shoving his length in inch by inch, and his wife ended up making noises again. Sansa felt ashamed, used and scared at the same time. She was highborn, a lady from the North, and now she was married to one of the most wicked men in all of Westeros who managed to make her feel like dirt. Sansa could tell that he thoroughly enjoyed making her feel that way._

_Ramsay kept using her mouth and became faster and louder. He was so filled with excitement that he didn't even listen to every noise she made and thrusted. It was a wonder that his little bird managed to keep his cock inside her mouth and throat without making a true mess like most would. Ramsay closed his eyes as he felt himself getting closer to his climax. He suddenly pulled it out of her mouth, and Sansa let out a gasp after she was able to breathe properly._

_She stared at his hard member that was coated with her spit, afraid of his next move. He stood up from his sitting position and hauled her up by her hair. Sansa let out a cry and instantly clawed at his wrists, but it didn't do much. A heartbroken sound escaped her abused throat as she was thrown onto the floor like a rag, and she realized that she lay on a warm rug that was placed in front of the warm fireplace. She was unable to see what her husband did as he stood behind her, his hand moving up and down his length._

_Sansa buried her face in the rug and whimpered as those cruel hands grabbed her hips to position her before he started to rip her dress open. He started at her neck, pulling the fabric apart, and her whole back was revealed. Sansa was practically weeping by the time she was fully naked. Ramsay knelt behind her as he slid one finger in her entrance, noticing that his wife was barely wet. She gasped and tried to pull her hips away from him, but his hand already held her tightly._

_Ramsay chuckled as he rubbed her clit. "It's alright. I'll take care of your little cunt." There wasn't enough time for her to process his words. Ramsay pressed his face between her legs, hungrily licking and sucking at her core. Sansa clutched at the rug that she lay on while she kept whining. More tears ran down her red cheeks in embarrassment, and she hid her face into the soft rug. His tongue was busy preparing her, and he moaned in arousal as he felt her becoming wet, her juices sticking to his face._

_Sansa gripped the rug so hard that her nails started to hurt. Her body almost made her moan for him as he pleasured her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from doing so. Ramsay gently sucked at her clit, eliciting the first moan from his wife. He removed his face from her heat, quickly licking his lips as he glanced over at her, trying to see her face that was pressed into the rug. He grinned at the fact that she was trying to deny her current arousal and leaned down to be close to her ear. "Don't hide your beautiful face, my sweet. I want to hear you saying my name while I lick you."_

_Sansa's lip was bitten bloody by now, and she felt her clit throbbing. She started to get needy and never expected her new husband to be so skilled with such things. Still crying into the soft rug beneath her, she felt his breath beside her ear, and she suffered greatly. She was trapped. Sansa didn't want to say his name, even thinking about it made her sick, but when the tongue returned to lap up her juices, she let out a loud moan. She instantly regretted giving him what he wanted as he heard him chuckling with delight._

_"Very good, Sansa. Scream for your husband." Ramsay continued to play with her wet pussy, earning more and louder, sweet noises from his little wife. He made her feel so good, and it was unbelievable how much she needed and enjoyed his tongue on her heat. "That's it. Say my name," he groaned as he worked on her clit. Sansa didn't want him to stop, in fact, she never wanted him to stop. Her mouth opened and she gasped as he suddenly bit her thigh. "Or I'll stop and leave you like this."_

_Sansa wouldn't be able to bear him leaving her in this state. Although she hated herself for enjoying this moment, she started to say his name, but as the seconds passed, it turned into a genuine moan. "Ramsay," Sansa breathed and felt how it tingled more and more down there, and his lips rested on her clit. It didn't take long until she finally came with a loud, beautiful moan. The feeling lingered for a few seconds, and as soon as she was exhausted and attempted to lay down completely, his hands grabbed her hips, scratching her with his nails._

_Sansa's eyes widened as the familiar feeling returned. Ramsay shoved his cock into her soaked heat, thrusting hard and fast to reach his climax. Her head turned to see what he was doing, but it didn't last for long as one of his hands were on her head, pushing her face back into the rug. He bared his teeth at the sight, pounding harder into his wife until it hurt her, and her moans turned into whines. She wanted to beg him to stop, but it was already too late. Ramsay wanted to see her face, to see the shock and pain._

_Sansa screamed, and she felt as if his length would rip her apart. He was brutal and heartless as he fucked her on the floor, and although she was wet, she couldn't help but feel pain at the way he forced himself into her again and again. Only now that her orgasm was over she realized which monster knelt behind her again. She shut her eyes with a whimper as his hot seed filled her up, and she felt weight on her as Ramsay collapsed with a loud moan._

****

**____________**

Theon tossed and turned while he tried to sleep normally, which wasn't quite easy after all those events. Emotions were washing over him, and sometimes he wasn't sure if he was Reek or the brother of Yara Greyjoy. He woke up while he was sweating, breathing loudly after a nightmare. His former master Ramsay was present in his dreams, and he sadly got used to it over the time, but tonight his dreams had been different. Ramsay felt so real, his voice and his face seemed to be right there.

Theon blinked a few times, glancing over at random objects that were in his room as he realized that he was at Pyke instead of in the kennels. Suddenly, he felt insanely guilty for the things he had done. His heart started to beat faster than it already did, and he placed his hand on his own chest as he gulped. Theon feared for his organ to jump out of his chest. It took him a minute to know that he was in fact Theon Greyjoy, and that Ramsay was gone. Thinking about him started to make him sad, and he felt awful and terrified as the time passed. 

It couldn't be possible that he felt like that _creature_ again, to feel as if his place was at Ramsay's feet and not at this island. Deep inside he knew that he was starting to panic, and he threw the blanket off of his body to leave the bed. A bad sleep became normal for him, but waking up like that didn't happen for a very long time now, and it was very unusual. Theon tried to take big, slow breaths as he stood in the middle of his chamber. 

Ramsay has screamed at him in his dream. Not only did he scream, but it felt as if he wanted to tear him to shreds like his dogs did with his whores when he grew bored of them. His heart started to beat slower after a time, and with his trembling body, he left his room in order to get some air. The sea was the only thing that made him feel safe, no matter what the reason for his fear was. He rubbed his eyes as he walked through the castle, wondering if Yara was asleep. She would be disappointed to see her brother having one of those nights again.

Theon kept making his way, slowly regaining his normal state. The evening before has been dreadful. His uncle taunted his sister right in front of him, and he felt himself wincing at the memory. Of course, he was way too weak to say something in those moment. Theon preferred to stay quiet, hoping that it would be over soon. He remembered how Pyke looked like, but it didn't feel the same. Pyke felt to him as a place that he wasn't meant to be at although he knew that this was his home. Theon hated himself very much, especially at those moments where he started to question his identity. 

It was tempting to visit Yara and tell her how he felt, but it would only make him feel worse. Yara didn't like being disturbed at night, especially not because of his panic attacks. She had given Theon the chance to slit his own wrists if he kept behaving like that, but he had sworn to change, to be like Theon Greyjoy. His sister protected him and wanted him to be like the Ironborn he was supposed to be, but it was clear in her expressions that she gave up on soothing him for eternity. She didn't want to raise him like a child; he was a grown man.

Instead of continuing his way out, Theon stopped and let himself plop down on the hard ground with his back against the wall. He wanted to sigh but remained silent and brought his hands to his head in frustration. Those times at Winterfell were over now, and Theon couldn't understand his own behaviour. He should be glad that this cruel bastard was far away from him, unable to harm him or Sansa. Theon would have accepted to stay with Ramsay as long as Sansa was safe, and he assumed and hoped that she was after Brienne came to take her with her. 

The hounds had already found them, and Theon had considered to be punished by his master for his betrayal. But then again, all those things never happened now that he is gone. Theon startled up as he heard voices at the end of the hall, and something was thrown onto the floor with a laugh. He pulled his knees to his chest and stared at two shadows that came closer, not bothering too stand and go away as it was already too late. Theon would have aroused attention nevertheless. 

A goblet rolled across the ground. The two men seemed to came from the feast, and Theon hadn't really thought that it would take so long for it to end as it was so late. Theon couldn't make out what they laughed about nor did he want to know. He just wanted to disappear, but the idea of returning to his bed made him nervous. To see Ramsay appear in one of his dreams wasn't the most pleasant thing, and he was still sweating since he woke up. 

"Look who's here!" A loud, amused voice was heard, and Theon raised his head, staring at the man in front of him with tired, reddened eyes. He must have seen them before but couldn't make them out completely. The old Theon would have answered boldly along with provoking them, maybe even slightly enjoying to mock them. Now he sat there with a frozen body, saying and doing nothing. The Ironborn glanced at the other and they exchanged snickers. "The eunuch! Euron's nephew!" 

Theon shut his eyes at the name of his uncle. Someone had come to torment him, it was nothing new. "Should we tell him that the little idiot strolls around?" the other suggested and grinned down at him, and Theon's face turned into a highly frightened one. Euron was the last person he wanted to meet now. "Where is your big sister, huh? That cunt that thought she could be queen?" Theon glared at him, clenching his jaw at his remark.

He had the urge to rise and tell them to leave him alone, but there was nothing he could do. Now he remembered why everyone made fun of him. He was a coward. Theon stared at the floor, unable to react like a true Ironborn. If Yara saw him now, she would be disappointed. Theon started to tremble again, pulling his knees closer to his chest. The other men started to laugh more at his display, and Theon hated himself for being like he was. There were things that reminded him of being Reek, and being sneered at like that was one of them.

"Please, go," Theon tried to mumble while looking away from them, but it only made them more amused. He wished that he were capable of being like Theon Greyjoy now, be he couldn't. "Leave me," he finally managed to say, but it didn't sound sincere at all for them. The Ironborn stepped closer, almost threateningly, and Theon made himself small. This night seemed like a big nightmare itself.

"What did you say?" he almost whispered down at him, and Theon only looked away. He kept trembling and shut his eyes, he couldn't bear it anymore. Pain spread in his body as he was kicked in the stomach, and his mouth opened to let out a surprised gasp. Another kick followed, and Theon winced while he was on the verge of crying. They laughed, and Theon hated himself for not staying in his bed. He wanted to see the sea, but instead he was once again shown how weak he was.

The Ironborn stopped and watched as the tears ran down his cheek. He chuckled and glanced over at his friend who sternly looked at Theon. "You're not Ironborn. You should go back where you came from." They turned away from Theon and walked away, finally leaving him alone. He stared at them as they disappeared, feeling great relief. The words he had heard were hurting him, and he slowly rose to go back to his chamber. They have been wrong, Theon was indeed Ironborn, and his home was at Pyke.

****

**____________**

"It's good to see you back, Lord Umber," Ramsay began as the other lord arrived at Winterfell, and by the look on his face, he wasn't amused. He had brought him the stupid boy that was in the woods along with the filthy wildling. Ramsay noticed, and continued calmly, "I am more than greatful for your gifts. They are, or _were_ I'd say, very entertaining." He smiled up at the other man, and Lord Karstark glanced at him as he sat beside him.

Smalljon stepped closer, although not too close, but close enough to appear intimidating. "Don't bore me with your petty words, I know why you've requested my visit," he snarled, and Ramsay only raised his eyebrows in amusement, feigning an innocent look. He could have chosen to refuse coming to Winterfell, but here he stood. Ramsay knew that Lord Umber needed him and his men, no matter how much he hated the fact, and if he needed it, he should prove that he deserved it.

"And I assume you have come to agree on our arrangement?" Ramsay asked with a playful tone in his voice. It was pleasing to know how he dependant he was on him. He leaned back as he sat his chair, not bothering to sit straight as if he needed to appear respectful. "It appears to me that your house is in need of a big army. I seem to recall that you have a son. It would be a tragedy if he had to witness his father not being able to fight against the wildlings that planned to invade the North."

Lord Umber's jaw clenched at the mention of his son. "Lord Bolton, we both know that we need to help each other, haven't I already told you? Jon Snow is not to be underestimated", he paused as he watched Ramsay's cheeky smirk disappear, "And I am not here for fetching you little toys, I brought you Rickon Stark. Bran Stark is dead," he finished. 

Ramsay tilted his head while tapping his finger on the table. "Perhaps. But if he's alive, we'll have the rest of the Starks in our possession. The bastard would consider releasing my wife and sending away the wildlings if he knows about his precious brothers being alive. That's what he'll think if he's a bit smart. Of course, there will be enough time for taking care of the wildlings and Jon Snow himself. But I need those boys. I need Bran Stark."

Ramsay couldn't wait to play his brilliant game. As soon as Bran would be in his possession, it'll become better and more exciting. The bastard should have received the letter already, and he'll already know about Rickon being in his dungeon. Ramsay smirked at the thought of his beloved Sansa hearing about him, how he wanted her back. She would be frightened as she heard about how he'll let his men take turns on her. He would love to watch his little, disobedient wife getting raped, and as soon as they would be done with her, it'll be his turn.

Lord Umber seemed as if he still wanted to discuss, but he finally nodded. "It seems like I don't have a chance, do I? I will slaughter those fuckers as soon as I see one of them, do you hear me? I want you to keep that promise." Lord Karstark became tense at his words, afraid that Ramsay could have become furious. Ramsay remained still and smiled again. He didn't see a reason not to keep his promise. Lord Umber will get to take care of some wildlings as soon as Ramsay had his wife back.

Ramsay nodded with a pleased expression. "Good. It's settled. Bring me Bran Stark, and as Warden of the North, I'll allow you to kill as many wildlings as you desire to kill. I'll flay them alive, every man, every women and every child. It'll be glorious, my lord." He watched Smalljon grin wickedly, and whether this situation will occur or not, he'll bring him Bran. If he took care of the wildlings or not will fully depend on his mood along with the bastard's behaviour. His wife however will learn her place. Forever.


	6. Little Piglet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yara keeps worrying about Theon. A maid of Ramsay seems to be different than the other servants, and Rickon has to visit the hounds again.

It was one of those days where Yara didn't feel like doing anything. The loud voices around her were annoying and unnecessary, but being loud was a perfectly normal trait for the ironborn. She had felt horrible as she woke up, sighing while she put on her clothes. Yara didn't remember much from the feast, she knew that she had left with Theon. When she had reached her chamber, she drank from a goblet until she forgot about her stupid, disgusting uncle. She had told Theon to go rest in his own chamber.

With no idea where Theon went, she kept glancing around with a bored expression on her face. Yara liked to entertain herself to forget about her worries, and since her brother returned, the worries only became greater. She had to confess that she may had been a bit harsh to him when he came back, but then, Westeros wasn't a place for weak and sad men. Surviving should be his main goal for now, especially since their uncle returned. Euron had told that he saw the whole world, but Yara wasn't impressed a bit. Her uncle didn't care for anyone but himself and his power, and if he decided to spend some time with his family members, he only did it to torment them.

Yara sat alone, glancing down at her empty goblet while furrowing her brows. She wasn't interested in shouting along with the other ironborn, and she wasn't in the mood to see Theon's scared face. Yara cared for him, more than for anyone else, but she couldn't handle him sometimes, even if she knew that it was horrible from her. She wanted to see Theon become strong again, and he won't be able to do so if Yara came to protect him all the time. One day there will be a battle, and Theon had to be ready. He wasn't the Bolton's dog anymore.

Whatever Euron did today was unknown, but if she caught him intimidating her brother once more, she won't be afraid of raising her hand. He had gone too far the last day, and she had lost every tiny bit of respect for him that was inside of her. Her own kind was pathetic, declaring him as their king without knowing what he was capable of, that he wouldn't blink if one of them died before him. Euron might even kill his own kind for pure enjoyment, and still, they called him king. 

Yara knew way too much about him, her father had told her many stories about the banished kraken that roamed the seas. She had heard that he turned crazy, and even her own father had started to fear him. Of course, he never showed it. Ironborn don't show their fear; fear is weakness. Yara though was concerned about them all, that Euron will be the one who'll bring a huge disaster. Theon currently wasn't the luckiest man on the Iron Islands. 

Normally Yara liked to seek out little adventures, adventures with other women. It wasn't a big deal for her nor was it for the other ironborn. Looking at their ugly faces reminded her of why she preferred females. Only a few days ago she saw a crying girl coming from her uncle's room, rushing through the hall with a bright red cheek. Yara knew what had caused her to shed so many tears, and it almost made her enraged. She was possibly one his whores, or a stolen wife that he caught on one of his trips. Whatever it was, Yara didn't like the harsh treatment.

The louder the laughters became, the greater was the urge to leave this place. Theon was in her mind again, and she came to the quick realization that she hasn't seen him for the whole day. She rose from her chair and looked around, only to see that everyone was far too busy with drinking and singing. Sighing inwardly, she left the place with concern, regretting that she hadn't looked out for her brother. Even if he had to become strong by himself, she couldn't let something bad happen to him.

****

**_______________**

Rickon froze terribly in the dungeon, making himself even smaller than he already was as he lay in a corner. He bit his lip, thinking about the events that had occurred. He wrapped his arms around his legs with his cheek pressed against the dirty floor. Rickon felt like one of Ramsay's dogs, those vile beasts he had to see down in the kennels. Ramsay's smiling and grinning made him want to attack him, it drove him mad. He was a lord, and Winterfell belonged to his family, the Starks.

Since Ramsay's personal mark had been burnt into his skin, his anger towards him only grew. He promised to be good and friendly, but inside, he couldn't wait to see him die. If only his direwolf Shaggydog were alive. His loyal wolf had been a beautiful and strong animal unlike those ugly hounds from Ramsay Bolton. Ramsay occasionally sent servants for him to bring him enough water instead of coming down here himself. It made him feel relieved, but he still feared for himself to get tormented further. When Ramsay had told him that he would see his family again, he was overwhelmed. But he didn't want Ramsay to be a part of his family. 

If Ramsay had told the truth about bringing Bran and Sansa here, they would get the chance to trick him, maybe even escape. Rickon liked to believe that he could have a chance as soon as the others arrived, but everytime he heard Ramsay's voice, he felt weaker. Still, it made him stronger again as soon as he thought about his siblings. Ramsay said that Sansa was married to him, and she escaped. She did it on her own. If she managed it, they will too as soon as they are reunited. He just had to play along, to promise Ramsay to be obedient and act like he were. 

Someone seemed to come down the stairs, and Rickon made himself ready to stand in order to look who it was. Hours have passed since someone visited him. He could make out the figure of a female servant, slowly walking toward the bars with a tray. Rickon was curious, not to mention hungry as a wolf. Slowly rising, he watched as the maid placed the tray on the ground in order to get the keys, probably given to her by Ramsay. She glanced at the boy and gave him a short smile. Rickon forced himself to smile back which she didn't see as she opened the door.

The maid picked up the tray, and Rickon could smell the delicious food that was placed on it. It had meat and vegetables on the plate. His eyes became wide at the sight, coming a step closer as the maid placed the tray on the ground, right in front of him. She looked up at him, smiling wide. She had a friendly, soft face. Dark hair. Rickon liked her. It has been a while since someone looked genuinely nice. "For you, Lord Stark. Lord Ramsay sent me to bring you food," she said with a sweet voice. There was also a cup of water on the plate, not very much, but enough for now, he supposed. "He expects you. Don't let him wait. There is something he wanted to show you, as far as I remember."

Rickon tried to process the words and looked at her with a wary expression. She kept smiling softly, almost innocently. "What does he want," he quickly stopped, "what does Lord Ramsay want to show me?" He had to pay attention not to spit the name with venom. Ramsay could easily find out how he talked about him when he wasn't present. The servant only looked down at the tray before she looked back into Rickon's eyes, and hers were beautiful to him. 

"He didn't exactly tell me what, my lord. Eat, and I will wait for you at the stairs. Lord Ramsay hates waiting, he is very impatient. I will lead you to him as soon as you are done," she informed sweetly, patting his arm carefully before she turned to sit down on the stairs. She didn't need to lock the door while she kept watching him. The maid sat down, and the smile never left her face. Rickon felt comforted by her presence and eventually knelt down to eat. He picked up the fork and went for the meat before he chose the vegetables.

He forgot his worries about the Bolton as he reveled in the taste, and he carefully glanced over at the servant that watched him ever so lovely. She seemed to catch him quickly everytime he looked at her, but he supposed that she didn't mind. Perhaps there was a way he could make a friend here. At least he would be less lonely then. The maid chuckled at his hunger which caught his attention. She must be in a very good mood. "Have you met his hounds? Lovely creatures, aren't they," she suddenly said, and Rickon stopped chewing. He wasn't sure why a friendly maid would be impressed by those monsters or mention them.

Rickon looked up from the tray and watched her face. She remained exactly like before, but the things she said didn't make sense right now. He decided not to answer her question and took the cup into his shaking hands, still freezing, and brought it to his lips. Rickon was grateful for every single drop of water that he could get. If it weren't from Ramsay, it would be even more wonderful. He finished it quickly and placed it back on his tray.

"They can get quite wild, but I can assure you that Lord Bolton takes great care of them." Rickon didn't want to know what _Lord Bolton_ took great care of. Those ugly dogs didn't mean anything to him. He wanted his Shaggydog back. Finishing the last bits of his meal, he shoved the tray away from him quickly. Who knows how long he will have to wait for food again. The maid took note and stood up, standing by the door again, and Rickon truly felt like a caged animal. She stood before him, looking at him as if she were proud. "You finished everything, my lord! Ramsay will be pleased. Now come. He is waiting."

With doubt, Rickon stood to follow her. Ramsay was the last person he wanted to see now, and he had a weird feeling about the whole situation. The maid led him out from his little prison and locked the door. He was still wondering why Ramsay didn't come if it was so important. Rickon started to get nervous as soon as they went up the stairs. Right after the dinner he had with Ramsay, he was stuck into his old, dirty rags. Ramsay had shown him how it feels to be a lord, only to rip the feeling off of him again. The fine clothing he had been given was put away.

They reached the hall soon, and Ramsay already smiled happily as soon as he saw who arrived. Rickon glanced over at the maid, feeling slightly betrayed. He knew that she will bring him to him, but her attitude had changed completely, and she didn't give him a single look. Her eyes were fixed on Ramsay. "Rickon. You look well. Have you enjoyed the meal I have prepared for you?" Rickon bit his own tongue before he would allow himself to be cheeky. Instead of him giving an answer, the servant spoke.

"He stuffed his mouth with it like a piglet, my lord," she said with a grin, and Rickon glared at her. _Piglet?_ She did seem more gentle back in the dungeon. Ramsay could only chuckle at that and noticed Rickon's red face. He tilted his head in interest, eying the boy's expression. A piglet. He liked that reference. He was small and a bit wild after all. Ramsay already knew that he will enjoy this day.

"Does something upset you, Lord Stark?" Ramsay asked with feigned concern, very well aware of the fact that he felt horrible. "I think piglet is a good name. Too bad that the pig isn't on your banners, it would suit your house so well," Ramsay mocked gently, and Rickon had to control himself, trying to stop himself from getting furious. Now he insulted his house, giving him a stupid name that was also degrading. He should have already learned not to trust anyone here. The maid was only a part of one of his games, he realized. Ramsay was ever so calm as he watched the boy screaming inwardly, and both of them knew that he had to keep his mouth shut.

Rickon stared at Ramsay, only realizing now that he had tears in his eyes. He blinked, and a tear ran down his cheek. Ramsay opened his mouth and brought his hands up. "Oh, no! Don't cry. You'll see my surprise. You should be happy." He glanced at the maid with a wicked grin while he pulled Rickon into a hug. Rickon didn't protest, even if he despised him right now. Ramsay stroked his back while he cooed something in his ear, comforting him with false words. "Don't cry, little piglet. I didn't know that you would cry so easily. Shh," Ramsay couldn't stop smiling and quickly tousled the boy's hair as he cried into his shoulder.

Rickon bared his teeth, ready to drive them into Ramsay's flesh. Ramsay's soothing, feigned words were lies. The maid remained quiet, but it was clear for him that she was on Ramsay's side, she didn't care for Rickon. The temptation became greater, and Rickon slightly opened his mouth, searching a spot on his shoulder to bite on so he would release him. Instead, a hand was in his hair and harshly yanked him back. Whether Ramsay knew about his intention or not was not important, he had other plans for him. 

"Now. Follow me, piglet," he told Rickon as if he were his own child, releasing his locks. Rickon winced angrily and glared to the side, not baring the other's eyes anymore. "And you," Ramsay addressed the malicious servant with a promising smile on his face, "you will wait right here until I return. Good?" There was a tiny hint of a threat in his tone, and the maid nodded instantly. Something was going on between Ramsay and his mysterious maid, but Rickon had more important things to worry about. The way Ramsay called him made him want to tear his eyes out.

Rickon was disgusted by Ramsay's touch. His hand was on his shoulder, leading him away from the hall. He knew the way, Ramsay was leading him back outside, to the courtyard. He was so busy with his thoughts about killing him that he didn't notice how the time passed, and they already reached the courtyard. Snow instantly met his face. It was way colder and stormy than it was the last time. Winter truly was coming, and it will be the most depressing winter if he endured it here.

"We will visit our friends today. There's something I wanted to show you. You won't believe it, Lord Stark," Ramsay claimed with an excited face, leading Rickon faster towards the kennels that weren't too far away. He could already smell them from a distance, not to mention that Ramsay smelled of them sometimes. "I visit them everyday. And when I do, they become excited, but also very hungry. They know that it's soon time for fresh meat."

Rickon didn't want to hear him talk. He didn't deserve the dogs in his eyes. Growling was heard, and Rickon already started to shake and tremble. Ramsay placed his gloved hand on his shoulder which only irritated him further. He was led inside the big, dark kennel, and as soon as they recognized their new _friend_ , they started to bark loudly along with baring their teeth.

He hated the damned hounds. They fitted Ramsay, and Rickon actually felt sorry for the dogs. They didn't have to become this way, to be caged for days and days. They ate Osha. "Fresh meat?" Rickon suddenly asked, almost to quiet and meek to be heard, but Ramsay had good ears. He stood beside Rickon, watching his wild pets growling through the bars. Rickon became tense, and his face turned red. Ramsay lifted his eyebrows, curiously watching the boy's amusing reactions. "Meat like Osha?"

As soon as he said her name, he cried, but this time it was because of rage. He could he dare to call her 'fresh meat' in front of him? How could he be so calm while talking about those things? And most importantly, did he do that often? Ramsay had said something about them being often hungry. Rickon didn't even want to imagine what Ramsay did. It had been enough traumatizing to be tortured by him with a branding iron, to be kept inside a dungeon for days. 

Ramsay only ran his hand through his wild curls while he watched the tears fall. "Yes," he said flatly. "Why shouldn't I? Winter is coming, and they need some bones to bite on after they ripped the meat from it." Ramsay kept playing with the boy's hair, and he seemed to be frozen as he stared at the animals. "But that's not why I brought you here. Come." Ramsay let go of his hair and walked forward, reaching the last cage. The dog lay there and didn't move much. Rickon followed him and looked at it with interest. It looked so innocent, not at all like the other hounds. It didn't even bark.

"May I introduce? That lovely girl over there," he crouched and put his hand through the bars, allowing his hound to sniff and lick at his fingers, "will bear puppies. I didn't expect it, really, but there they are." He smiled gently, looking at her belly. Rickon's face softened at the mention of puppies. Such lovely, sweet things shouldn't be at this place. Who knew what Ramsay secretly did to them. Rickon didn't want to think about those things. Ramsay stood up and faced Rickon. "If you'll be a good boy, I might give you one of those. Now that your direwolf's on my floor, and you are without a little friend, it might make you happy. How does that sound?"

Rickon didn't fully understand Ramsay's intention. Why would he give him a hound? A puppy? Ramsay grinned. "One for all of the Starks. One for you, one for Bran, one for Sansa. We're all a family now. It would suit you better than a huge, ugly wolf, wouldn't it? Now that you are here with me, after all. See it as a present." Rickon was scared by his words, and Ramsay didn't seem to be quite sane. The idea of getting a puppy, a hound, from Ramsay made him feel as if he betrayed his own house. Those were the Bolton's beasts, not his. Not those from the Starks. He would never accept this, not from Ramsay Bolton.

Rickon didn't realize that he already shook his head while he glared at the other lord. Ramsay's eyes widened, and he mimicked the boy's movement. "No? You decline my little gift? Well, if that's so," he mused, "I'll have no other choice than to end their short lives. A pity to see such a small being leave this world." Ramsay knew that his words greatly hurt Rickon. Nobody would bear watching an innocent puppy die. Ramsay wouldn't do this to his hound's own children. They will be as strong as his other dogs. But Ramsay knew how he could change the boy's mind.

Rickon kept shaking his head desperately, tears leaving his eyes. "Please, d-don't hurt the puppies. Please. I-I'll take them. We'll accept your gift." Ramsay was pleased by his reaction and stepped forward to wipe his tears away, and the boy only shut his eyes. Talking about hurting puppies was worse for him than being hurt himself. Ramsay couldn't wait to see his new, little hounds. When they are grown, they will accompany him on his hunting trips. He was already proud.

"Shh, shh. I was only toying with you. I would never harm my hound's children. They are like my own children. Those beasts live with me since I can walk. Stop crying." Rickon tried to recover from that horrible image and eventually became calm. Maybe a little puppy wasn't so bad after all. Perhaps Ramsay could be nice on occasion, if he behaved obediently. He tried to see things from another perspective. He had to stick with his plan. Wait for his siblings, reunite, escape. Until then, he had to accept everything from Ramsay. He couldn't allow himself to behave like the wild boy he once was back then.

Rickon obeyed and nodded, although the anger was still visible on his face. Ramsay liked how he caused the boy to be conflicted. He was only a child, and he ruined his hopes of being free. He couldn't wait for his bitch to bear new dogs, and new dogs meant more mouths to feed. Fresh meat will be thrown into the kennels in no time. 

****

**______________**

Rickon had to return to the dungeon again, and he would have enough time to prepare himself for his new, little friend. Inventing more games was exciting. Ramsay had returned to the hall, and his maid stood exactly where he left her, as she should. She did what he told her to, not only now, but back then when she visited Rickon. He liked it to find others who were interested in joining him in his games. 

The girl smiled happily in his direction as he came back. "Welcome back, my l-" Ramsay didn't let her finish as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her with his hands on her waist. She reminded him of someone who was very important to him. This maid wasn't exactly like Myranda, but there was something about her that made him believe so. She was pinned between Ramsay and the table, and she felt how his hand snaked between her legs, smiling as he found something wet. 

She giggled as he lifted her up to make her sit on his table, attacking her neck with hot kisses. Ramsay was never tired of these things, they were all his. He could do to them whatever he wanted, and some of them even enjoyed it as much as he did. It was more than pleasant when they tried to fight him, a little game between prey and predator. His hand had found her heat again, and he circled her clit with his finger through her underwear. The maid pressed her lips together and moaned softly.

"Do you want your lord to take care of you?" Ramsay whispered into her ear, eliciting another noise made out of excitement. He rubbed his face into her neck again, making her giggle. "What if the other servants found out how dirty you are? You little whore," he taunted sweetly, noticing how she drew closer to wrap her legs around his body. He was fully clothed while he almost got rid of her dress, and she could feel the hardness brushing her skin, desperate to be freed. 

"They could watch," she dared to purr, and he stared at her with hungry eyes. The thought of fucking her in front of the others made him even more excited. Her blue eyes were fixed on his, and he couldn't believe how beautiful they were. Blue like those from his precious wife. He kissed her again, this time more gently, moving only a few inches back afterwards.

"Is that so? You would like that? Maybe I should let _you_ watch as I pleasure my lady wife," her face changed at the mention of his wife, and he was painfully hard. He imagined making Sansa scream and moan so loudly that the whole castle would hear it. "I should use your tongue for my cock, and then you'll watch how I fuck her," he almost moaned and grinned against her neck as she gasped quietly. He bit into her neck. "You'll watch us every single night. You would like that, wouldn't you? Watch your lord how he takes care of his lady. Wouldn't that make you jealous?"

The maid bit her lip but couldn't contain her next moan. "Never, my lord," she hissed. She didn't like to be called jealous. She highly respected Ramsay, but she wouldn't say that she loved him. Nevertheless, they way he used his words made it tingle between her legs. "Please," she begged, desperately waiting to be taken by him. He only chuckled at that and let her wait longer, planting kisses on her face and shoulder. His soft lips brushed her cheek before he left a kiss. 

"Good. Being jealous is a rather boring trait." He noticed how impatient she became. "Please what, sweet?" His hands found their way under her dress, sliding her knickers down to her ankles. Her legs started to shiver, and she felt her wet heat against the cold, wooden table. Ramsay watched her reactions with a calm face. "What is it that you want?"

The maid only looked into his face with a desperate expression. She hated this talking, she needed him inside her. Her hand wandered down to his crotch, carefully rubbing her hand over his clothed erection. Ramsay shut his eyes for a short moment and took her wrist into his hand with a smirk. "Words," he reminded. The female servant brought her legs around his body again, this time with her being completely bare under her dress.

"Use me, my lord. Please," she barely managed to say, and Ramsay heard enough. He couldn't wait any longer himself, and he brought his hand to her neck, slowly laying her down on the table. She grinned and moaned as her head touched the wooden table, her cunt fully exposed. The maid watched Ramsay unbuckling his belt before he let his lower clothing slide down his legs. He brought his other hand to her neck, and without a warning, he entered her and started to choke her. Ramsay thrusted into her and didn't pay attention to her hands that raised as she couldn't properly prepare for his strong hands. She gasped as he choked her harder.

Ramsay chuckled and pounded into her, flesh smacking against flesh. She looked up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, and he quickly released her neck, only to pin her wrists to the table. "You are not going anywhere now, love. You wanted this," he stated, and he watched her grin wickedly. He appreciated her reaction and leaned down, grazing her lips with his own before he harshly bit into her lower lip, making her bleed. She winced at the pain and stared up at his face. Ramsay licked the fresh blood from her lip and kissed her, moving faster inside her, and both moaned.

She was not like the other maids, not so quiet and boring, and she seemed to be fond of his hounds. Maybe they could have some fun for a while. And yet he didn't know her name. He quickly picked her up from the table and walked towards the wall to press her against it. His hands held her tightly, and he was sure that she will have some scars from his nails afterwards. She smiled into another kiss as he was close. "My lord," she moaned with a high voice, bringing her hands behind his back, scratching his leather vest. 

Ramsay came and almost let her drop, but then she came herself as she heard his loud moan in her ear. He released her from his grip, and they stood, looking into each other's eyes. Fucking his servants was something normal to him, but this one was entertaining. "Where is your lady wife anyway, my lord?" Ramsay was surprised as he heard her question. A cheeky thing. 

"That's none of your concern," he said with a firm but gentle voice. She raised her eyebrows and smirked while she glanced in another direction. "Is something amusing you?" He gripped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes, and her smile never wanted to fade. She seemed to enjoy all of this. She didn't resist his harsh grip and watched him calmly instead. 

"Oh, not at all, my lord. It's just that I wonder where she is all day," she answered. Ramsay didn't know if she was actually unaware of the fact that his naughty lady ran away with his ugly pet, or if she wanted to play with him. "I always imagined a husband to watch his lady wife all the time. It's such a cold place. She might get lonely."

Ramsay was aware of the tone in her voice, as if she was trying to struck a nerv until he wouldn't hold himself back anymore. "Are you assuming that I don't take care of my wife? As I said," he whispered into her ear, "you are free to watch as I take care of her. I might even tie you to the chair so you won't leave us," the maid seemed to be perverted as she chuckled at his suggestion. He couldn't wait to find out more about the little witch. "Now, before you attend to your tasks, tell me. What is your name?"

The girl looked up at him through her lashes. "Mira, my lord." Ramsay nodded and observed her body for a last time. Mira might please him for a while, of course not as much as his wife Sansa will as soon as the bastard has no chance but to hand her over. Ramsay already imagined the arrows in Jon Snow's body, not to mention his screams. 

"Good, little Mira. Go. I have important things to take care of now," he cooed, smacking her backside which made her chuckle, and she quickly put on her clothes again before she disappeared. Ramsay watched after putting on his own clothes again. She had a delicate body. The world was full of toys, and they all belonged to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are highly appreciated.


	7. Count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay finally meets Rickon's brother, Bran. He learns something very important about his new captive. Bran makes a big mistake.

"Stop struggling," one man snarled at Bran who had had a sack pulled over his head for a long time before it had been yanked off. It hadn't taken them long to understand that he was unable to walk on his two legs and they taunted him for it while carrying him. It was humiliating enough for Bran to be handled like a helpless child. Cripple they called him. They weren't the first ones to do this. Those men must have searched for days to find him. Being so far away made him believe that he would be safe for a very long time. He had seen the Night King and his dead army. They were far more frightening than those big, ugly men.

"You're going home, my lord," someone taunted, and it was something that caught his attention instantly. How long has it been since he has left Winterfell? He felt how he was forced to shift as the big man had him over his shoulder. Bran felt like a goat that was going to be slaughtered. 

"Home?" Bran dared to ask loud enough, and two men that walked behind him grinned in his face. Those men didn't look familiar at all, but as soon as he spotted the chains on their upper bodies he recognized the symbol of a northern house. Bran had been very young back then, but he spent his time learning much about the other houses that were part of the Seven Kingdoms, their words, their lords, everything. He couldn't learn how to use the bow in his condition, and he knew that he had other, more important abilities. Abilities that could make him save Westeros.

"Yes, cripple. Winterfell. You're going to Lord Bolton," the man who carried him answered and chuckled. Bran wanted to think if he knew a Lord Bolton back then, but then all of his visions that he had before came back. He had seen him, Ramsay Bolton, what he did to his sister Sansa and his old friend Theon Greyjoy. He had turned the Greyjoy into a slave and tormented him and his sister numerous times. She had worn a white, beautiful dress which her new husband had ripped apart as soon as they were about to have their wedding night. Tears had ran down Bran's cheeks for days as he saw his visions for the first time. Now he didn't flinch. 

He had been thrown into a big, wooden box before they dismounted to get him out of it. They were already entering the courtyard after the gate was opened quickly after their arrival. Bran knew about Rickon, although he wished that he didn't. His home had changed, and the banners from the Bolton were all over the walls. Some men stared at him for a short moment before they continued their task. After his visions he knew that it was the best to not show fear in front of Ramsay. One part of him gave him hope. Sansa had escaped from the monster and was at Castle Black, with Jon Snow who was now the Lord Commander.

Bran didn't feel as cold anymore as before as they entered the castle. Many things had changed, but it didn't surprise him. The man who held him picked up his pace, and his grip became tighter. Bran had seen things happening in those halls that stayed in his mind for a long time. Having a power that made it possible to see everything around him happening at all times wasn't always helpful. Some things had to be left unseen. 

The man stopped walking and stood still along with the three other men that accompanied him on his trip. He already knew that it had been Lord Umber who had caught him for Ramsay. Bran started to feel uncomfortable as it became silent, and nobody spoke for a while. His whole, new situation made him frustrated, but he had to hide it before he ended up like Rickon, who was on the verge of becoming mad. His little brother cried everyday and feared Ramsay. Ramsay liked his tears.

Bran slid down his shoulder and was turned around with a hars grip on his upper body, holding him tightly to not let him fall down. Ramsay couldn't possibly know about his legs, not yet at least. He saw Ramsay's face right in front of him for the first time, and his malicious smirk that has formed quickly seemed more threatening than it had in his visions. It was a completely different feeling. The northern bastard, Bran viewed him as such, rose from his chair and quickly walked around his table to come closer toward his new captive.

He had seen his legitimization, and he had made himself the new Warden of the North, but his rotten heart was that from a bastard. Bran simply didn't respect him a bit, Ramsay was cruel and lied. He enjoyed making others suffer for his pleasure, and he could easily become a new target. Ramsay hadn't always been as strong as he seemed to be now, he always had been afraid of not gaining his father's attention, to be replaced because he didn't get approval.

Ramsay tilted his head and saw the strong grip on his arms. Sooner or later he would know about his legs. He looked at the man that stood behind him. "Welcome back. It seems that you have caught the little wolf." There was mockery in his smooth voice, but Bran wouldn't let himself be taunted. The new Lord of Winterfell watched him curiously, his eyes were wide, as if they tried to detect any small hint. "My, you are much more taller than I expected. Forgive me," Ramsay said. "It must have been frightening, those big men coming out of nowhere to get you."

Ramsay knew how to use his words, but Bran knew that he thoroughly reveled in his confusion. They had been rough with him indeed, and he had been punched and kicked before they decided to catch him. If he had stayed in the cave, nothing would have happened, and those men wouldn't have caught him. But Meera and him were in the middle of the woods, trying to hide from the dead. He had to leave his direwolf behind, and Meera wasn't treated kindly. He had a bit of dried blood on his forehead and Ramsay feigned a concerned face as he saw the small wound.

"Have they hurt you?" Ramsay had seen the hands on Bran's arms long enough. "I suppose that he can stand by himself, Lord Umber," he stated, and Bran couldn't prepare himself as the man took his hands off of him with a grin. He fell to the floor like a fish and let out a grunt as his cheek hit the ground. Bran's face became red, he felt helpless as he lay there, both lords curiously watching him. Ramsay's smile never left his face, and he glanced at Smalljon, expecting an explanation.

"He can't walk. He's a cripple," Lord Umber claimed and stepped back. "I have given you what you want, Lord Bolton. The first wildling that will come near your castle is mine." Ramsay was too busy thinking about Bran, that his new captive was unable to walk. He hasn't properly listened but supposed that it wasn't something important anyway. 

"Yes, of course." Ramsay's boots were right in front of Bran's face, and it was highly tempting to break his little nose. Bran remained silent as he was on the ground. He could use his arms, but he rather paid attention to the men's words. Anything that he could hear will be important. "We will take care of the bastard soon enough, Lord Umber. You have satisfied me with my new, special gift." Ramsay smiled down at Bran, but Bran didn't look up at him. 

Smalljon has heard what he wanted to hear and did what was necessary. "Very well. I will count the days until we slaughter those traitors. Have fun with your boys," he said and smiled, and Ramsay chuckled at that. Lord Umber didn't have much to do anymore and turned around, making his way out of the castle. Bran heard how the steps became more quiet as the time passed until they were fully gone. He despised being on the ground with nobody to help him move, but he was sure that Ramsay was extremely excited.

Bran wondered how he would react to his ability. Maybe then, he wouldn't taunt him so much anymore. "Do you need help?" Ramsay asked and held back words and actions he thought were better to do later. If Bran had normal legs, this situation wouldn't be so humiliating. Ramsay enjoyed watching him being helpless. "There is so much that you need to know. You won't believe who's here," he stated with a wide grin. Bran forced himself to be quiet, although he would love to tell Ramsay the truth. He knew everything about him. Ramsay didn't give him the chance to answer and crouched down, yanking at his arms until it hurt and lifted him up. 

Bran stood on his feet and was forced to look into the other's face. Ramsay wouldn't possibly want to help him stand the whole time, so he quickly dragged him over to a chair, softly shoving him down to sit. Bran sighed and looked up at him. The way he sat on that chair didn't feel right, but Ramsay didn't seem to care as long as his face wasn't on the tiles. He didn't let his face look frightened; he kept watching the other with no sign of emotion. Ramsay didn't like it.

"I am truly sorry for you, Lord Stark. I can only imagine how hard it must be to live like that," he lied, and to Ramsay's misfortune, Bran knew more than he thought he would. Bran noticed the knife that was tucked into his belt. He had hurt many with his knife, his sister was one of them. 

"No, you aren't." Bran said calmly. Ramsay's light smile disappeared and he simply looked at the boy's uninterested face. "You are not sorry for anything you have done," he added. Ramsay looked as if he had been slapped, amazed and shocked at the Stark's words. Ramsay wondered why that boy would know anything about him anyway, but he brought himself to gently smile again.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I think you are confused. You should take a rest," he said, inwardly imagining the boy's screaming. He would make Bran beg for mercy, just like he did with Rickon. Ramsay wanted to know the reason for his ability to stay completely calm. He was not at all like his pathetic baby brother. Maybe it will change as soon as he saw him torturing the other Stark boy.

Bran didn't seem to react to his assumption, nor did he want to rest. "You killed your father and his wife along with your half-brother. You stabbed him in the heart and watched him die at your feet. As soon as you heard of your stepmother's birth, you threw it to the hounds and let them devour her too." Ramsay's jaw clenched, and he stared at the boy who sat in front of him. He wouldn't let himself get angry, but he was deeply interested and stunned. It couldn't be possible to know all of those things as someone who wasn't present.

Ramsay slowly walked towards him. Anyone would have already trembled and begged for forgiveness, but Bran did nothing, he didn't even flinch. Ramsay would have fun finding a way to make him fear him soon enough. "Listen, little lord. I don't know if your mother accidentally let you drop as a child, but all those things you have mentioned are terrible lies. If you make an assumption about me and my family again, it will have consequences."

Bran didn't let himself be tricked by his talking, he knew the truth, and Ramsay trying to deny it was useless. He should be careful though, Ramsay will hurt him sooner or later, but provoking it would be worse in the end. "I apologize." Bran considered subtly threatening him when it was the right time. But trying to play tricks was a thing that Ramsay was a master at. If he planned revealing his powers, he could also do it now. It won't protect his siblings anyway. Not now at least.

"I forgive you. But only because you don't know the rules yet." Bran hated the way he called those things rules. "It's a pity that you can't walk. You'll need me or my servants to help you at all times, and if you require my help, you should show me that you have earned it. You earn it with being obedient." Bran was bored by his lecture, he had seen everything he had done to Theon, or better Reek. If Ramsay only knew that he could tell him where his pet is in a mere second. He didn't see a reason to help him though, but Ramsay could consider becoming careful if he knew about his ability instead of denying it.

"I know that my brother is in your dungeon for a while now. He was brought to you by the same man that brought me," he dared to say again after Ramsay just talked about possible consequences. Ramsay was still and didn't say anything back, it actually seemed that he was impressed. "You married my sister Sansa. I saw what you did to her on your wedding night. You let Theon watch." Ramsay looked at Bran as if he were a ghost and tried to process the fact that this boy somehow knew everything about him.

Ramsay's glare lasted for a few seconds before his face softened. "Is that so? You see things without being present when it takes place?" Ramsay glanced over at the wall, collecting all kinds of memories. The poor boy had every single thing that he did in his mind and couldn't do anything about it. Although it was shocking to know that he witnessed him killing his family, it was also amusing to know that he had things stuck in his head that he wished he hadn't seen, such as his wedding. He looked at Bran again. If he knew about him, he knew about everyone else. "How exactly are you doing that?" Ramsay sat down on the chair next to him.

Bran glanced at the sharp knife again, imagining the thing in his arm or stomach if Ramsay had enough. Ramsay noticed this time, and he glanced at it too. "Oh. That?" He quickly yanked it out of his belt and held it in front of the Stark's face, and Bran's eyes followed every single movement. "Are you having worries that I could use it on you? Have you seen what I did with my knife?" He actually toyed with the idea of cutting off a finger or two off of his hand. Maybe that would teach him to be more respectful. But the ability was highly interesting and could be important. He put it on the table and waited for Bran to explain.

Bran didn't want to show any signs of fear and was going to tell him everything. He didn't have a choice, and in the end, he was more powerful than Ramsay. At least he liked to believe so. "I am the three-eyed raven. I can see everything that happens everywhere at any time." He paused to look at Ramsay, but he didn't look like considering to hurt him yet. "I didn't choose to be like this. It was given to me." Ramsay didn't care if he liked it or not, this little ability of his would help him greatly. A smirk was on his face at the thought of being able to know what his sweet wife did now. Perhaps she was naked in a tub, rubbing a sponge over her tits.

Ramsay forced himself to have a neutral expression as he listened to Bran. "Tell me, do you see your brother? Jon Snow? Can you see the wildlings? My beautiful wife?" Ramsay asked curiously. This boy was a gift himself, he could give him important information, use him in order to achieve his goals before he fed him to his hounds. Or maybe, he would never feed him to them at all. He could lock him up forever, visit him when he needed to know what certain others did. "You," Ramsay pointed at Bran with his finger and nudged his chest with it, "will help me. Or else I'd have to," Ramsay picked up the dangerous, sharp knife and held it right unter his eye, "remove those powerful eyes of yours."

Bran swallowed a whimper he would normally make in this situation. The knife was dangerously close to his eye, and he felt how it moved on his face. Ramsay let the pointy end wander down his cheek. The knife found his neck, and Ramsay stopped moving it. "You have no other use for your family anyway. You can't walk, you can't ride, you can't fight in a battle. You are useless." Ramsay brought the knife back to his cheek. "A human worm. I could kick you to the floor and let you crawl your way through the castle. You possibly wouldn't reach me in time if you were starving for days." Ramsay couldn't hide his amusement anymore, but Bran didn't feel threatened at all. His words didn't mean anything. It was truly stunning.

He put his knife back and watched Bran, waiting for an answer. He should feel honored to help him, but there was nothing that came out of they boy beside the fact that he knew everything about Ramsay. Ramsay wanted Sansa. He will get Sansa. But he didn't like to repeat himself, and Bran didn't seem to grasp it. Ramsay rose from his chair, now seeing the slightly surprised expression on the boy's face. With a single movement, he grabbed Bran's hair and yanked him off of the chair, letting his body meet the floor again. Bran grunted and shut his eyes in slight frustration as he found himself on the ground again. Yet he didn't regret not submitting to Ramsay.

"I simply ask one thing of you. I wouldn't have to treat you that way if you were obedient like your little brother Rickon. I already told you. Without my help, you won't get anywhere. A little cripple like you should be more respectful." Ramsay said those things all way to gently, watching with glee how the boy's face was on the ground. Bran could use his arms, and he lifted his upper body up. He wouldn't let himself be called a worm again. He will never offer the man who raped his sister help, not even if he killed him for it. Rickon was young and scared, he had to be scared of Ramsay. Bran knew too much to be afraid, he knew that Ramsay will inflict pain on him anyway.

Bran looked up at Ramsay, and he smirked down, pleased as he watched the helpless Stark that couldn't walk. He probably expected him to beg, but he wouldn't do that either. Bran hated the thought of being hurt, and he had seen what he did to Rickon with the branding iron. Ramsay had hurt Theon numerous times, even if he did everything to be obedient. He only liked to make them believe that they had saved themselves, only to crush their hopes and make the pain even worse.

"You claim to know _so_ much about me. It is a wonder that you haven't learned from that." Ramsay had the urge to completely humiliate the boy, to make him regret everything. All of them were the same. Rickon was brave at the beginning, Sansa was brave at the beginning and even after he fucked her bloody. But in the end, they feared him all. "It seems that your eyes are the only body parts you need. You wouldn't mind if I cut off your useless legs and fed them to my hounds, would you? I guess you already know about them." Bran glanced at his own legs. "But of course, I wouldn't need to do that. I could choose a body part from Rickon instead. He likes to get loud and obnoxious when he cries. Maybe I should take his tongue. What do you think?"

Ramsay kept pressuring Bran further, and the more he talked about Rickon, the less strong he could be. Ramsay had already toyed with the idea of sewing Rickon's mout shut, even if it was only to try it out. Bran knew that he couldn't keep acting defiantly anymore. He had seen what Ramsay did to those who were especially stubborn. There was a slight chance of reducing the possibility of getting flayed like Theon Greyjoy. "If you already know about Jon and Sansa, why would you need my help?" Bran finally asked, forgetting about his worries. "You know that they are at Castle Black. I know that you will meet them." 

Ramsay raised an eyebrow at that. The question wasn't entirely stupid, and he had no problem when it came to explaining. "But you know you so much more, Lord Stark. You could become a very, very helpful tool for me. I am glad that you told me all about your ability." Bran regretted speaking about it as he heard Ramsay's last sentence. He didn't want to end up like a tool, especially not for the bastard Ramsay.

"I won't be your tool. I would rather die than to help you hurt my family." Bran didn't have enough time left to think about what he had just said. Rickon could be hurt severely. He expected Ramsay to become at least annoyed, but his face remained calm. Bran knew that it was too late now. He will get his punishment, like the others. Instead of shutting his mouth, Bran wanted to be even more bold. "I have seen the dead. They will come and invade the North first. They will kill you, Ramsay Snow."

Anger was visible on Ramsay's features, and he was truly motivated to show the boy his place. His face suddenly softened, as if he didn't hear the disgusting offence. "Ah. There is so much you have seen indeed. Why don't we go see your little brother?" Bran couldn't respond, Ramsay already grabbed his wrists and yanked him up harshly. "I am sure that he misses you dearly. But, you have also seen that too, haven't you?" The tone in Ramsay's voice seemed to change. Bran could hear a hint of aggression in it, and he started to think about what he had done. He called the man who kept his brother in his dungeon a bastard. 

The grip was painful, he could have sent guards to bring him to another place. Ramsay preffered to do it himself, after all, the dungeons weren't far away. Bran didn't try to beg nor did he wiggle. He knew that those things would only urge Ramsay to hurt him more. It sickened him to be dragged over the cold floor like a rag, but the fact that he will see his brother made it worse. He loved his brother, but he hated seeing him in pain. The Bolton's symbol was a part of his skin now. 

They reached the stairs, and Ramsay didn't make an attempt to be gentle. He dragged him down until they finally were in the dungeon where Rickon was kept. Bran stared at his little brother that sat near the wall, playing with an empty cup that was on the floor. Rickon turned his head, and it was obvious that he hadn't slept well, perhaps he had not slept at all. As soon as he spotted his brother, his eyes widened, and he rushed to the door with his fingers holding on to the bars. "Bran!" The younger Stark had tears in his eyes, and he wished nothing more than the door to be open so he could reach his brother. Then he saw who brought him here.

"Isn't that adorable," Ramsay commented and smiled. Bran stared at Rickon and touched his hand with his own, noticing how much his fingers were shaking. Rickon's tears started to flow. Ramsay took the key out of his pocket, and Rickon's eyes followed its every move. "I told you, Rickon. I want to reunite you with your family." The door was opened, and Rickon instantly threw himself against Bran, hugging him tightly as he sat there. Bran wasn't able to show any emotion, but deep inside he missed his brother just like he had missed him, and he hugged him back. Ramsay walked around them and crouched down, putting his hands under Rickon's arms to gently pull him away again.

Rickon tried to protest as he was forced to get away from Bran. "Come," Ramsay told ever so gently, causing the younger boy to cry in frustration. He didn't understand why he separated them again, but he had learned that Ramsay didn't need to explain himself. Rickon's face heated up after he was sitting across from his older brother. He still couldn't believe that he was here. There were small wounds on his face, and Rickon was incredibly worried.

Rickon sat next to Ramsay, growing more frustrated as the time passed. He wanted Ramsay to disappear and hold Bran until he would sleep again. "Now that you are finally reunited, we can start." _Start?_ Rickon looked up at Ramsay with a perplexed face. Ramsay's hands were on his belt, unbuckling it while he looked at the older Stark. He held his belt in his hands, calmly looking at it before he watched Bran. He became tense. "Rickon, your brother has been very, very disrespectful." 

Bran came to the realization that he had made a mistake. "Sadly, I have to punish one of you. I can't allow that behaviour. Bran," he said, looking straight into his eyes. "Tell Rickon what you have done." Bran wished that he had shut his mouth. He had seen the dangerous knife that hurt so many, he had seen the branding iron that had made Rickon scream. Now Ramsay had his leather belt in his hands, one of the things that had hurt his sister. 

"I called you a Snow," Bran said, and Rickon instantly stared at him. It seemed that even his younger brother knew that this hadn't been his best idea. Ramsay seemed to clench his jaw at the mere word, but he managed to hide it fast. 

"Exactly. I have flayed men who thought that they could use that word around me, Bran," Ramsay warned subtly. "Do you know who is a bastard? Your half-brother is a bastard. I am a Bolton. You should be grateful that I didn't let my guards pull your limbs off." Bran wasn't exactly grateful. He felt pure hatred toward the other lord. "But of course, there are other ways to teach you how to respect me, and who I am. Calling me a bastard forces me to take measures."

Rickon started to shiver, and Ramsay's hand quickly ran through his curls to soothe him in a mocking way. "Shh. Everything is alright. You will get fifteen strikes. Your brother will count, otherwise it's against the rules." Bran and Rickon stared at each other as they processed the Bolton's words. Rickon was about to be punished for Bran's actions. He should have known better. 

"What? No, please! Please! He didn't mean it!" Rickon's hands were on Ramsay's leg as he looked up at him, pleading for mercy. He was scared of the thick belt. Ramsay looked down at him and only raised his brows. It was too late for the boy to save himself, and Bran's regret finally showed on his face. The situation was deeply pleasing for the Warden of the North. Rickon didn't give up and held on to his leg, hoping that there was a last bit of mercy inside of Ramsay's heart. "Please, Lord Bolton! We are sorry! You are not a Snow, you are a Bolton!" 

Ramsay only sneered at him and shoved him away until he let go of him. "I know. But your brother over there didn't think so. My punishment is very light. I could have chosen something more painful. You should thank me for whipping you instead of putting you on a cross for everyone to see while you slowly freeze to death." Rickon was frightened by his words and kept crying. He didn't blame Bran at all. "Now, take off your rags and get on your hands and knees." 

Rickon obeyed, taking off his old, torn rags. He still had his breeches on, and Ramsay seemed to allow that. Bran was forced to sit there and watch as his little brother was about to get punished for something he didn't do. But then, what else could he have expected from that monster? The younger Stark was on his hands and knees, shivering terribly. Bran felt guilty, nothing but guilty. The thought of Ramsay dying was soothing, and it wasn't very unlikely. Ramsay stood next to Rickon with his belt in his hands, letting him wait and fear the first strike.

Bran heard Rickon's heartbreaking scream as the belt hit his back, instantly leaving a red imprint behind. He wished that he could have normal legs so he could stand up and stop Ramsay. Seeing his little brother suffer made him devastated. Ramsay paused after the first strike, seeing that he couldn't even endure the beginning. He didn't expect anything else to happen. "I told you to count," he reminded Bran. The second strike followed, and Rickon felt terrible pain spreading in his back.

Bran forced himself to count, hearing Rickon's cries becoming louder and louder. Ramsay left two strikes on his upper back quickly, making him scream. The pain was almost as bad as when the branding iron was on his ankle. It was even worse because his brother had to witness it. He hated Ramsay. He wanted him dead. Ramsay used the belt on his back for a while, almost finishing his fifteen strikes. Rickon's back was bloody by the time he stopped, and Bran noticed that he almost cried himself. 

One strike was missing, and Ramsay crouched down next to Rickon, bringing his hand to his cheek to softly stroke it. "We almost made it, little lord. Kneel," he ordered. Rickon wiped his own tears away and brought himself to be on his knees, his hands covering his upper body as he froze terribly. His back was covered in red, thick imprints from Ramsay's leather belt. Ramsay stood before him, lifting up Rickon's chin. "Good," Ramsay praised and smiled softly. He stepped back and watched the trembling boy for a few seconds. Rickon screamed as the belt hit his face. He pressed his hands in his face and groaned as he felt the pain spreading. Ramsay made the last strike especially painful.

Ramsay put on his belt again, ignoring the crying boy that lay on the floor. "Put on your rags," he commanded with a cold voice, now standing before Bran. A tear ran down his cheek. "I hope that was a lesson for both of you. Watch your words the next time. I'll allow you to stay with your brother for now." He yanked the older Stark forward by his hair, throwing him into the room. Bran tried to sit up as fast as possible, putting his hands around his little brother. He didn't give Ramsay a last glance and soothed Rickon as he hugged him. 

Ramsay shut the door and locked it, leaving the dungeon with a smile on his face. Tomorrow will be the day he meets the bastard. His wife should prepare too. Now that he had their brothers, they should consider being smart. Whipping the boy's back bloody should teach them a lesson. Nobody could call him a bastard, especially not a filthy Stark boy. He could still hear Rickon's crying as he went up the stairs.


	8. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay meets Jon Snow at Castle Black. Sansa makes a decision.

Ramsay spent the whole morning fantasizing about this day, the day that has finally arrived. He had woken up with a smile on his face as he recalled the meeting with his wife's brother which would happen in a few hours. He was the one who had received the letter, and Ramsay could perfectly imagine Jon's face at the sight of some sentences regarding his beautiful sister Sansa. It was like a little game of hide and seek with her, and he came closer and closer everyday. He hasn't been so excited for a while now. 

He was already dressed, and he walked toward his chamber to get his cloak and gloves. Ramsay had visited the two Stark brothers earlier with a big plate, and their eyes got wide at the sight of breakfast placed on it. Of course he had told them all about the meeting with their half-brother and sister, and poor, little Rickon had clung to his older brother. Ramsay felt insanely good, almost euphoric whenever he saw the boys in the dungeon. They were his, and there was nothing that could save them. 

Rickon was valuable when it came to pressuring the bastard who deeply missed his little brother. Bran on the other hand, who he hadn't been mentioned in the letter in any way, was a pure gift. He had powers that Ramsay had never heard of. When he was a child, he had spent most of the time chasing smaller animals with the hounds and using his bow. Most boys had to learn how to use the sword too, but his father hadn't been particularly interested in teaching him, and so, he ended up with his other, beloved weapon.

Ramsay giggled and laughed whenever he had shot a bird or a squirrel before feeding it to his dogs. As he grew older, animals weren't the only things to hunt anymore. Two-legged prey was funny to chase, they made much more noise and screams than any other animal could. The face they had made as they had been told to run was priceless, and he intentionally took his time tracking them down with his wild beasts. His father wasn't pleased as he heard of his activities, but there wasn't anything that could stop him from doing what he wanted. He had tried to earn his father's respect and failed.

Ramsay opened the door that led to his chamber, slowly stepping inside, only to be surprised by a familiar maid kneeling naked on the rug. He stared at Mira's exposed body, her nipples already cold from the lack of clothing that would warm her. She had a soft smile on her face as she saw him standing there, and she started crawling towards him. Ramsay's eyes followed her movements, and she suddenly rubbed her cheek against the side of his leg.

Ramsay was amused and chuckled softly, running his hand through her hair as soon as she looked up at him again. "Are you one of my hounds now?" he asked, completely content with her behaviour. Mira leaned into his touch, enjoying how Ramsay's finger scratched her near her ear, playing with her hair. "Can you do some tricks too?" he dared to ask, and he thought that he could grow fond of this little game. She came up with it herself, and that fact made him excited. Mira didn't answer and crawled toward his little table.

Ramsay watched as she took his gloves into her mouth, and she came back to him to give them to him. He was impressed, carefully plucking from her mouth while looking at her. She was acting like a trained dog, and dogs could be very entertaining. They were loyal. Ramsay put on his gloves and saw that his servant's smile never faded, and he tilted up her chin. "Good puppies get rewards," he stated, and her cheeks started to turn red. Ramsay was about to leave for an important meeting, and now he was getting distracted by his sweet, twisted maid. "But bad puppies have to be punished." 

He saw her smile getting wider for a short moment. It wasn't unclear what the girl wanted, and he truly enjoyed it. There was nothing more Ramsay wanted than to play with her, and he felt himself getting aroused, but he couldn't let too many minutes pass. His wife was waiting for him. Ramsay gave her a sweet smile and bent down on one knee, stroking her cheek. 

"I would love to play with you, but you know what I have to do today. It is very important, and I can't spend too much time here now." Mira's smile dropped, and she was disappointed that he had to leave early. Ramsay glanced down, looking at her delicate body before he wouldn't see it for hours. He hadn't seen her being fully naked until now, and when he had fucked her against the wall a few days ago, she wore one of her dresses.

Mira would miss Ramsay while he would be gone. She knew that he had to leave, but she couldn't resist to play with him before he would disappear. The maid loved his way of doing things and liked to help him with his games, such as frightening his captive Rickon. She could still feel how Ramsay had been inside her, and she was looking forward to invent more games for both to play. Mira buried her face in his chest, and she felt a hand return to her head, petting her.

"I will be back soon. We'll have even more fun when I return. Until then, you have to put on your prettiest dress, alright?" Mira looked up with wide eyes, and Ramsay reveled in the way she acted. It was a shame that he had to leave right now. He stood up again, walking toward his bed to get his cloak. The bastard was probably furious as he thought of meeting him. Ramsay wanted to see the great warrior himself.

Mira's eyes were on him, and she rose herself as he was about to put on his cloak. She was convinced that Ramsay liked the way she greeted him, and there were plenty other things she could do to please him. Ramsay saw her slowly walking towards him from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, curiously waiting for her next action. The maid was full of surprises. He noticed that she hadn't said a single word until now.

"Speak. Unless you decide to stay a puppy for a while," he added playfully. He fully turned his body as he finished dressing himself completely, watching her as she bit her lip. "But if that were the case, I'd have to put you in my kennels." There was still a hint of amusement in his voice, and Mira decided to take a step forward. She didn't speak as he had commanded it. Instead, she inched forward until her lips were grazing his before tenderly kissing him. Ramsay chuckled at that and put his hands around her, pressing her against his own body.

Her tongue tried to find a way into his mouth, and he allowed it. It turned into a hungry kiss, and Ramsay didn't know if he should punish or thank her for distracting him today. Mira moved away, grinning up at him. Ramsay brushed some strands of hair off of her face, cupping it afterwards. He was his precious, little doll. "I will wait for your arrival, my lord," she finally purred. "May I ask where you'll be while you are leaving me all alone in this big castle?" she teased. Ramsay had already noticed that she liked to slightly taunt him. She wasn't afraid of trying out how much he would allow.

"My dear, you wouldn't understand all those things a lord has to take care of," he stated teasingly as he stroked her cheek. "Don't worry. I'll soon return, and when I'm back, I'll fuck you so thoroughly that you end up begging me to stop." Mira was incredibly wet by now, it made her frustrated that he had to leave. She had to entertain herself with thoughts until he came back. Ramsay kissed her forehead then walked towards the door. "Now, get dressed." 

Ramsay left the room and walked away. Mira will eventually attend to her tasks. Ramsay couldn't wait for meeting Jon Snow. As arranged, Lord Umber and Lord Karstark will accompany him. After all, how would it appear to the bastard if he saw that the Warden of the North didn't have allies? Jon Snow wouldn't have to say much anyways. Maybe he had fought against some strange men with his great sword, but he sure hadn't met hungry hounds. 

****

**_______________**

Ramsay wasn't particularly looking forward to a battle, though he would prepare for it if it was the time for one. The most important thing today was seeing Sansa. It has been such a long time since his sneaky wife ran off, and now the day has arrived where they will finally reunite. He had delicious plans for her, and he was eager to show her her place once again. Ramsay was patient. The bastard may already be there, but Ramsay wouldn't mind letting him wait a few minutes, though he himself didn't want to be slow.

Lord Umber and Lord Karstark were already waiting in the courtyard, ready to mount the horses. Just as he had been told, Smalljon had a sack with the dead direwolf's head with him. Ramsay gave them a nod, and he thought that the sight of the dead pet would be enough to make Jon worry. He could have taken the boy with him, but it was too much of a risk. After all, Ramsay didn't want to end up chasing the Stark through the woods with a bow. That would be truly terrible. With a slight smirk, Ramsay mounted his horse and sighed, turning his head to the two lords next to him. "Let's meet the bastard." 

They rode toward the gate, and it was quickly opened as Ramsay came closer. Everyone at Winterfell didn't hesitate to follow his orders, and they knew that it wasn't wise to let him wait. He didn't have problems with removing skin of defiant men or servants in the past. Ramsay picked up the pace, and the two men did the same. He could already see figures standing far away, and he couldn't be more excited. "I think we just found him," Smalljon commented from behind with amusement in his voice. Ramsay knew that the Umbers once were loyal to the Starks, but the times had changed, and now he was more than eager to help Ramsay wiping Jon Snow off the North along with his wildlings.

Perhaps Reek found comfort in hiding behind Jon too. It could be a possibility, though he was doubting that his pet rat had a chance of surviving at Castle Black. As soon as they saw his face, they would sneer at him, calling him weak. Ramsay was proud of turning him into this creature, but he had decided to betray him. Maybe he was already starving somewhere, and nobody would give him a glance. He should have known that only his master gave him the privilege of acknowledging his presence.

Ramsay and his men came closer, and he could make out the face of his wife's half-brother. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch didn't look amused at all, it was written all across his angry features. He must have all those things in his mind that he heard about Ramsay. The Bolton stopped, contentedly smiling at the bastard. The first thing Ramsay noticed was the absence of his lady wife. Perhaps Jon Snow never learned to read a letter properly.

He was surrounded by men though, and they didn't look weak. All of them shared the same facial expression. "Is my wife hiding from me?" Jon almost furrowed his eyebrows at that. Ramsay looked around, and his little redhead was nowhere to be seen. "I see," Ramsay began, "It seems that you didn't fully understand the situation. I have thought better of you." Sansa was probably locked away in that castle, but Ramsay had time. "In fact, I heard so much about the bastard and his sword. You are a true warrior, aren't you? But are you also aware of the fact that you should already kneel before me?"

Jon seemed to be very irritated as he listened to the Bolton's words. He would rather have endless arrows stuck in his body than to bend the knee for the monster that tormented his sister. "She is where she belongs. I can't let you have her, Lord Bolton," Jon said as politely as possible, though he would like to see Ramsay die after the smile disappeared on his face. But Ramsay kept smirking sadistically. He knew what he wanted and how he would get it. 

"Is that so?" Ramsay raised his eyebrows at him. He turned to Lord Umber and gave him a nod. Jon watched the bigger man's hand disappear in a sack, and as soon as he had pulled out Shaggydog's head, he felt his heart breaking. He had read about Ramsay keeping his little brother in the dungeon, but he had believed that this was only a lie in order to manipulate him. The head was thrown to the ground, and Jon couldn't believe how Ramsay Bolton managed to be so cruel. He smiled softly as he saw the pain in Jon's face and felt his pants becoming tight. 

Jon stared at the head, and Tormund glanced at him with concern. A little boy had to suffer in that man's possession. "What have you done?" Jon asked quietly at the sight of the wolf. If he had the option, Jon would instantly dismount and decapitate Ramsay with his sword. He was the one who deserved it. It was horrible enough that he had had his sister, now he had his brother. Rickon was so young and innocent. He wasn't meant to endure this. Jon didn't want to accept that he was at Ramsay's mercy, but he slowly realized that he was. 

"Don't worry. He has his very own dungeon and gets fed enough. He really misses you, Jon Snow." Ramsay remembered that the reason why he had come here wasn't to only talk about Rickon and was about to lose his patience. "Well, if my lady wife is currently at Castle Black, I have no other option than to visit her. I always wanted to see the Night's Watch with my own eyes anyways," he laughed. He was the Warden of the North, and if he decided to visit the crows, nobody could deny it to him. Jon and his men got tense as they heard his request.

"I don't see a reason why this will be necessary. I doubt that you were truly proclaimed as the Warden of the North, my lord," Jon said. Ramsay was surprised by the sudden confidence that came from the bastard and let out a chuckle. He found it truly amusing how Jon thought that he could tell him what to do. Ramsay was already sparing him from a cruel death. 

"Allow me to explain it to you, bastard. My father, Roose Bolton, was Warden of the North before me. Now that he is sadly no longer ruling, it was my duty to take over." Jon listened attentively, though he seemed to detect a lie in his sentences. Ramsay suddenly tilted his head and slightly narrowed his eyes as he watched the Lord Commander with interest. "Wasn't your own father once Warden of the North? I suppose that you have known how much responsibility he had to carry over those years. So do I. Now. Lead me to Castle Black. My wife is waiting for me, and you shouldn't make her impatient."

Ramsay could basically feel the tension coming from the other men, and it only took a few moments of silence until Jon and his wildling friend gave each other a look, as if they were trying to comfort each other. The wind blew through their hair, and Jon Snow's horse turned around as the bastard pulled at the bridle while he looked over his own shoulder to see what Ramsay was up to. He didn't trust the man at all and was disgusted by his pure presence. Leading him to the Night's Watch will only result in chaos and confusion amongst the crows.

****

**____________**

The huge gate was opened as the three men returned from Winterfell. Jon was looked and partly glared at as he was seen with another man along with two of his allies. Davos hadn't said a single word as he witnessed Ramsay cruelly mocking Jon, and although he was highly sceptical about the warden's visit, he remained silent. The Lord Commander saw the puzzled faces from the other men that were waiting for him to come back, and most of them continued their training after they didn't hear anything from Jon. 

Ramsay watched with interest as they swung their swords. The crows seemed to be skilled, and they protected themselves with their shields to prevent being accidentally hurt by their partner. Ramsay never really cared for Castle Black. He had heard his father laugh about the fact that the Night's Watch wanted to protect the Seven Kingdoms from dangerous creatures. Ramsay had sneered along as he heard the stupid fairytales and was glad that he wasn't part of this whole thing. This place suited the Stark bastard. 

Ramsay dismounted and now stood on the muddy ground, curiously looking around as he heard shouts all around him. None of them seemed to care about his presence, and only one or two that passed acted intimidated. Not all of them looked strong and dangerous, many were looking like sticks that made an attempt to fight but only ducked as soon as the sword was close to their bodies. Ramsay could imagine them screaming like a little girl as soon as an arrow was put through their leg. Lord Karstark hadn't brought Ramsay's bow for no reason.

The two other men got off their horses and stood behind Ramsay. Smalljon was amused by the crows, and Jon had quickly dismounted before he faced his sister's husband. Ramsay smiled and looked around a third time before he looked straight into the bastard's eyes. Jon practically glared at him, and it was a wonder that he hadn't used his sword yet. "So that's the place my little wife is hiding at," Ramsay remarked calmly, and Jon only turned around to walk inside. Tormund and Davos followed him, although it was unclear whether they would join them again or not. Ramsay got the message, and he went after Jon Snow along with the others.

Ramsay was inside the castle and didn't see Sansa. The only ones that were present beside him and Jon's men were other warriors, and they stared at Ramsay as they sat by their tables. There weren't many of them left inside, and as soon as Jon took a seat, they disappeaered to attend to their training after cracking jokes. Ramsay sat down himself and was across from the Lord Commander while Lord Karstark and Lord Umber remained in a standing position. Davos and Tormund were beside Jon, but Ramsay didn't really care about that.

The bastard hadn't talked since Ramsay's arrival. Both knew why he was here and for whom he was here. Jon wasn't entirely naive and was aware of the fact that Ramsay cared little about the Night's Watch, and he probably didn't care for his allies' safety as well. The Bolton was about to talk, but Jon cut him off. "You won't get to touch or talk to my sister. If you came here to negotiate with me, you might as well take your horse along with your men and return," he said, and Davos glanced at him for a moment before he watched Ramsay.

Ramsay only chuckled as he looked at the wooden table. "Bastard, I haven't come to negotiate. I have came to take what is mine, and you won't get to choose that anymore. Lady Bolton is supposed to live by her husband's side." He noticed Jon's jaw clenching at the sound of _Lady Bolton_ and calmly continued. "Listen to me. You will go to whatever room you have hid my beautiful wife in and bring her here. We can do this the peaceful way. Unless you want me to cut your baby brother into pieces, you do as I say. I have been far too merciful with all of you."

Jon raged inwardly, his hand already on the sheath of his sword. "You will not talk about my family in this castle. I tolerate you, but don't make me do something that I might regret later," he almost threatened, and Davos watched him with a worried face. Jon wished that he hadn't allowed Ramsay and his treacherous men to enter the Night's Watch, but he had to face the man that tormented his sister. "You wouldn't even blink if one of them bled out," he added as he looked at Ramsay's men, and as he remembered Ramsay's threat regarding his little brother, he automatically rose with his hand on the sheath. 

Ramsay was slightly surprised and laughed, acting as if he were impressed. He looked up at Jon and noticed his shaking fingers that rested near his own sword. Smalljon glared at Rickon's brother and shook his head with a mocking expression on his face. "You like talking shit, don't you, you little bastard? Perhaps that was why they killed off the pathetic cunt that was your father," he teased, and he glanced over at Ramsay with a smile, "and why his father killed off the bitch that birthed your fucking brother. Robb was his name I believe. " Ramsay smiled back and started to get pleased by Jon Snow's growing frustration.

Ramsay's eyes fell on the red-haired wildling. "You must be one of those wildlings dear Lord Snow gave a warm home," he stated, and Tormund could barely control himself. Tormund despised those lords like Ramsay Bolton, lords that were being pampered throughout their lives and looked like girls rather than true warriors. He wouldn't allow him to harm Jon or any of his siblings. His sister Sansa Stark was waiting in Jon's room, and she was aware of Ramsay's presence. Tormund felt sorry for the girl. Ramsay watched Jon continuing to glare at him. "My wife," he commanded again with a slightly deeper voice.

Ramsay had already planned to slaughter and flay all of those filthly wildlings that came from the woods. He wasn't stupid, he had seen that most of them were already in the courtyard and trained with the crows. Ramsay didn't harm them intentionally, today wasn't really the time for that. Not for all at least. Perhaps one or two will do to teach them a lesson, to finally understand who was in charge here. They were beasts and would probably throw themselves on his dear wife as soon as there wasn't any other woman left. 

Jon remembered that Rickon was stuck in Ramsay's possession. The mere presence of him made him furious, and he was about to attack Ramsay with the sword. The Warden of the North rose himself and slowly walked towards Jon who didn't feel the need to back off, instead, he stared right at the Bolton's smug face. "I don't see a reason why I should let you breathe another second. Your little brother is smarter than you, bastard. My hounds are getting hungry, and I might as well let them chew on Rickon's legs. Of course we could prevent this, and you know how," he told him gently.

Sansa had told him not to trust Ramsay. He liked to toy with people and mercilessly crush their last hopes, but as soon as he heard about Rickon and his hounds, he saw red. Nobody would speak of his brother like that, especially not the man that raped his sister that will forever be traumatized. Jon suddenly lunged for the other man and pressed his hand on Ramsay's neck, pinning him to the stone wall while Smalljon and Harald along with Jon's men watched with wide eyes. Neither of them intervened. 

"If you say one more thing about Rickon, I'll make sure that you and your men wish that you never decided to come here. You are a traitor. You have murdered your own father and expect me to trust you? Is that what you want?" Jon threatened into Ramsay's ear, but the Bolton didn't seem to be impressed by his words. Instead, he seemed to enjoy it. The hand on his neck tightened, and Ramsay let out a quick breath as the bastard attempted to show him his place. "And you dare to call me a traitor for saving innocent men and women along with their children which you threatened to flay? Is that how you earn respect, Lord Bolton? If you hadn't killed your father he may already have sent you here," he snarled, and Ramsay glared at the Lord Commander as he mantioned his father.

"Get your disgusting hand off of me before I'll cut it off and shove it down your throat,"Ramsay growled quietly, and Lord Karstark already made himself ready to shot Jon in the leg with Ramsay's bow. Smalljon stepped forward, grabbing Jon by the back of his neck to pull him back, and he gritted his teeth at the harsh grip. Jon was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and those men treated him like he were a peasant. Ramsay slighty lifted his head and watched as the bastard was being dragged back by his ally. Tormund and Davos had enough, and they instantly rushed forward to pull Lord Umber away, but Jon seemed to resist.

"No. Let me handle it," he told them with aggression in his voice, but he chose wrong as a fist met his stomach, and Ramsay chuckled in amusement at the sight of the defeated commander. Smalljon violently slammed him against the wall, and Jon's cheek was being pressed against the stone wall while he was forced to make eye contact with the Bolton. Lord Umber made sure to hold him tightly, and Ramsay came closer, softly smiling at Jon as he struggled against the grip. Harald stood beside Ramsay and almost seemed protective.

"You can take great care of yourself, bastard!" Ramsay taunted. "Your own men don't even try to save you. Look at them. They despise you. I bet they secretly await your death," he added, and Jon felt humiliated. He could practically feel Ramsay's disgusting breath on his face and glared daggers at him, and it didn't help him at all. Jon tried to be confident but Ramsay had the upper hand. "I have time all day, Jon Snow. We can draw this out a bit if you'd prefer that. I am interested in seeing how tough Castle Black has made you. If I twist your ankle, how long will it take me to hear it snap?" 

Tormund ignored Jon's command to leave him alone and instantly walked towards the two men that tormented the commander. "Leave this castle if you aren't capable of properly negotiating. Now get the fuck off of him before he decides to hang you," the wildling threatened, and Lord Umber eventually let go of Jon to turn to the redhead. Tormund didn't fear the northern lord a bit and stood straight while staring into his eyes. If he wanted a fight, he was ready to bash his brains in. 

Ramsay and Jon forgot each other for a mere second as they saw the men arguing. Lord Umber stepped forward until his nose almost touched the other's and clenched his jaw. He yearned for killing some wildlings. "Now look how brave you are. You suck a bastard's cock for having a warm and cozy place to sleep, eh? Or are you doing it the other way around? Tell me! I'm curious," Smalljon growled as he grinned wickedly, breathing into Tormund's face. Tormund raged inside, though he had learned from the past and decided to not show his anger. 

"Now now, Lord Umber. I think that's none of our concern," Ramsay stated, though he was getting more and more entertained as the time passed. He almost forgot that Sansa was only a few footsteps away. Smalljon sneered at Tormund and gave him a hard shove. He had gone too far this time, and the wildling's fist met the Umber's face. Ramsay's mouth opened in surprise while Jon only glared at the Bolton, and Smalljon grunted after his nose was being smashed, blood running down his face. He hadn't expected the wildling to react like that, and Jon seemed to be pleased by his action.

Lord Umber watched his own hand and spotted his own blood. He looked at Tormund as if he was about to stab him, and although Ramsay could have already interrupted them, he chose to watch. Smalljon suddenly laughed loudly which made Davos raise an eyebrow as he sat on his chair, and Jon kept feeling highly uncomfortable. "Is that everything you manage to do you little fucker?" he spat at the wildling, and he was already preparing for breaking his limbs. Smalljon glanced at Ramsay then to Lord Karstark. "Use that fucking bow of yours and shoot him until he screams for his wildling mother," he growled as he stepped back to stand beside Ramsay.

Ramsay remembered the bow he had brought with him and liked the idea of making the wildling run, but for now, his wife was more important. "Enough!" Jon suddenly shouted, and to his surprise, everyone was silent. "We didn't meet for fighting, Lord Bolton," he almost growled, but he somehow knew that Ramsay wouldn't mind a bit of blood. Ramsay glanced at Lord Umber who still touched his bloody face then to Jon Snow. "I already told you. You won't see my sister nor get her back. You are free to back to the castle your family has stolen from us," he snarled at the end. 

Ramsay inwardly laughed at the stupidity of the Lord Commander. "Well, that's a shame. I guess I'll just do as I am told and visit your little brother and tell him how you feel about him. It seems that you care more about your pride than for Rickon. He'll make a good rug, I believe," he said nonchalantly, and Jon's expression showed him that he had hurt the bastard. The amusement left Ramsay's face. "Listen to me, bastard," he whispered while pulling out his dagger. "You aren't important. I might as well slice open that body of yours and let my wife watch. After I am done with you, my men will have fun with your wildling whores," his dagger was dangerously close to his heart, and he remembered the old scars.

Jon looked into Ramsay's wicked eyes and felt how he was being pressed against the table as the other lord trapped him. Ramsay suddenly leaned closer and sniffed at him, grinning wide. Jon was repulsed and tried to back off, but the Bolton was firm. "You smell like Rickon," he whispered into his ear, and Jon's face was red as he grew insanely angry. "You know what else smelled? His skin as I burned it," he added cruelly, and Jon instantly shoved him away hard, and Ramsay's dagger almost clattered to the floor. Jon literally attacked Ramsay and pinned him to the wall again, but he only saw pointy teeth smile at him. 

Jon wanted to see him bleed and fimly held the Bolton's head in place by his neck and his hand turned into a fist. He didn't care if Tormund and Davos witnessed it. Nobody would talk to him like that. Lord Karstark drew the bow and stared at Jon while Smalljon only laughed. "Give it up, bastard. You will give Ramsay his wife unless you want me to give you a taste of how lords and ladies really make love," he threatened sadistically. Ramsay couldn't do anything to hide the bulge in his pants.

Ramsay felt how two hands started to choke him. Tormund and Davos watched with interest, hoping for Jon to finally get rid of him. The Bolton seemed like too much trouble and only hurt others for his own pleasure. Jon squeezed Ramsay's neck with his hands, watching as the other's face turned red. Lord Umber was about to attack the bastard, but then another person entered the room. Jon instantly let go of Ramsay as he saw Sansa standing in the room, staring at each one of them. Ramsay took deep breaths and smiled wide as he saw his beloved wife, putting his sharp dagger back. 

"Sansa?" Jon asked with concern. "Why did you come here?" He rushed toward his sister and put his hands on her arms, almost shaking them. She was supposed to wait in her room in order to be left alone by her cruel husband. Sansa looked straight into his eyes. She was tired of it. Of everything. Ramsay was utterly amazed as he saw Sansa standing there. She had come herself. 

"My beautiful wife," Ramsay cooed and stepped forward. "Look. You have decided to show up yourself, haven't you? Why were you hiding from me?" Jon glared at Ramsay and boiled. The last thing he wanted to happen was occurring right now, and he wished that his sister would have listened just for once. Now she was trapped. Ramsay stood beside Jon and looked into Sansa's cold face. "Do you recognize me? I believe you do, my dear," Ramsay purred and he had the urge to do many things to her body.

"Sansa!" Jon only tried to protect his sister, but she only brushed his hands off of her body and took a step back. Jon's mouth opened in surprise, and she was looking around. She didn't plan to come here, but it has gotten louder and louder and she couldn't bear it anymore. Jon was stupid enough to let Ramsay come to the Night's Watch. He couldn't do anything right sometimes. Sansa stood straight and confidently. 

"It's alright, Jon. I know why Ramsay's here," she said calmly, and Jon's hands were shaking. "And it's my duty as his lady wife to come with him." Her last sentence threw the bastard off guard. Has Sansa lost her mind? Ramsay's face brightened up, and he walked over to Sansa to put one arm around her shoulder, holding her close to him. He noticed that she was cold, and he quickly took his cloak off to wrap it around his wife. Sansa didn't refuse, but she also looked away from Ramsay. 

"I knew that my lady is a smart one," he said gently and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Jon was on the verge of getting mad and didn't believe what he was seeing with his very own eyes. "We should head back, hm? I am sure that you've missed your home. I missed you too, Sansa." Ramsay's lips parted as he watched her face. After so many days he finally had his wife back. She belonged to him, and she came back. 

Jon made an attempt to pull Sansa away from the monster, but she backed off. He glared at his sister. "No, Jon. You can't stop me. I've made a terrible mistake," she told him and inched closer to Ramsay. Her husband instantly noticed and let his hand wander down to her waist. He was proud. "My place is at Winterfell," she stated then looked at him as if he were dirt. "I'm not supposed to live with a bastard. I belong to my husband." Ramsay was getting insanely aroused, but he decided to care for that a bit later. 

Jon looked as if his heart was being ripped out. "You heard her, bastard. A savage like you doesn't have the right to hold Lady Bolton captive." Sansa worried that Jon wouldn't realize that she was only attempting to trick Ramsay. She hated him more than anything else, but she had to save their little brother. Jon stared at her with a heartbroken expression, and it made her want to cry. She inwardly begged for Jon to understand that she had to act like a good wife in order to help him. Ramsay was an expert in tricking others, but Sansa had learned planty of him. 

Sansa forced herself to look into Ramsay's eyes, and her lips were only a few inches away from his. She felt disgusted as she offered a kiss, and the Bolton gladly pressed one to her lips, almost biting her. Sansa kept looking into his heartless eyes, bringing her hand to his arm. "I missed you, my lord. I hope you can forgive me for my pathetic attempt to hide from you." Sansa couldn't believe that those words actually came from her own mouth, but she had to do it for the sake of Rickon. For the sake of the North. Ramsay chuckled and watched Jon's devastated face. 

"Poor bastard. He is going to cry soon," he mocked and held his wife tighly. "It is time for us to leave this disgusting place. This is no way for a lady to be treated," he finished and gently took Sansa's arm, which she let him do, and they walked away. Lord Karstark and Lord Umber grinned at Jon and quickly followed Ramsay without saying a word. The Lord Commander fell to his knees as he saw them walking toward the courtyard. He didn't know if he was angry or completely hopeless. Davos rushed to Jon and comforted him, though he was confused and shocked himself.

Jon was so deep in his own fear that he hadn't realized that they already mounted the horses. Jon shoved Davos away and got up, running down the stairs after they left the room to reach his sister before she will be gone. "Sansa! Stop! Stop the horses!" he shouted as loud as he could, but Ramsay only smirked as he picked up his pace along with his wife and men, leaving Castle Black as the gate was opened. The horses became faster, and Jon ran after them as if he had a chance. He ran as fast as he could, almost breaking his own ankles as he tried to catch up with the Bolton who stole his sister. Jon saw that the figures became smaller and smaller, and with an exhausted groan, he fell to the ground. He was covered in mud, and he got on his hands and knees. Jon wanted to scream in frustration, and he realized that Tormund and Davos had come.

They helped him to get up and tried to make him calm, but it didn't work as he aggressively shoved them away. Jon was turning mad, and he pulled out his sword, attempting to run after Ramsay, but the wildling stopped him a second time. "Jon. Jon. Jon!" Tormund shouted and threw his sword away before he would do something he would regret. He held Jon tightly and glanced at Davos. Ramsay had Jon's sister. The Lord Commander took deep breaths and watched Tormund. He will make sure to get his sister back.


	9. Wardeness of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa returns to Winterfell and finally sees her brother again, but Ramsay makes sure that she'll regret everything she has done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: rape

Sansa was on the verge of shedding tears as soon as she spotted Winterfell from a distance. The place that was once her home, her true home, was a disgusting place, her husband's personal playground. Jon's face was carved into her mind, and she wanted to scream at herself for comitting the same mistake. She wanted to be the hero, to save her little brother from the monster's grip. She had sworn to never go back there, and she would rather be burned alive than to be touched by Ramsay Bolton.

She once made the mistake to scream the exact same thing in his face, and it had only taken him minutes to make her cry out in pain. Ramsay's knife, or 'her little friend', as he liked to call it, had also done things to her skin, her body and her soul. Sometimes she had preferred the knife over the other things he had done. He liked to act as gentle as possible, only to shatter her like glass afterwards. For a mere second, on their wedding night, Sansa believed that Ramsay could be decent, but of course those hopes were crushed either as soon as she found herself wiggling on the bed.

She sat on her horse and rode next to Ramsay's, Blood was its name. They have gotten slower by the time they were closer to Winterfell, and Ramsay's mood seemed to brighten by every step the horse made. He was extremely confident as he rode beside Sansa, his lips occasionally forming a little smile now and then. Sansa wished that her trick would work, but she had lived too long with him to know that he won't fall for any kind of tricks. Ramsay was the one who played games, and Sansa's attempt only gave him another reason to greatly punish her. 

She felt Lord Umber's eyes on her body, and she felt disgust. The men that helped Ramsay were possibly mad themselves, but her husband will always remain the worst of them all. The tall lord rode behind her, making sure that she wouldn't try anything unclever. She thought about Rickon, her little, innocent and kind brother Rickon. Ramsay kept him in the cold dungeon, and Sansa imagined how the wild beasts that were his dogs would rip the Bolton apart. 

Winterfell was in near sight, and Sansa felt incredibly sick, like she would get a disease. But she had made the decision. The gate was opened, and the four riders were entering the courtyard that had changed so much over the years. Sansa could practically feel Ramsay everytime she walked through this castle, he was like a second part of her that never left. She was frightened. Ramsay dismounted first, and his allies did the same. Sansa didn't have the strength to get off her horse for some reason, and she toyed with the thought of riding back to the Night's Watch.

She was shivering, but the cold was not the reason. She eventually dismounted, suppressing the urge to cry when Ramsay walked in her direction. His cloak was still around her shoulders, and instead of warming her, it only managed to get her more goosebumps. A hand was on her arm, followed by a second one that was resting on the other. Sansa looked at her husband as he stood before her. He brushed away some strands of hair that were in her face and smiled like a proud father. 

"Welcome back, my lady." Ramsay's lips found their way to her cheek, and the feeling lingered after he drew back. His face immediately feigned concern as he spotted a tear running down his wife's cheek. "Oh, no. No no," he whispered quickly and wiped it off with his thumb, holding her face with his hands as she fought against new tears that threatened to escape her eyes. "There is no need to cry, my sweet. You finally returned to your home and your husband," he told her gently.

Sansa was dreading his touch. Lord Umber and Lord Karstark kept watching them as if they put on an amusing show. Ramsay's cold hand felt worse than a knife as it rested on her cheek. 

"You are shivering. I think it's a good idea to let you rest in a warm chamber. Don't you think?" he asked as if he was concerned about her well-being, and Sansa nodded quickly. "Alright. You must be exhausted. Come," he ordered, letting go of her face. Ramsay walked toward the entrance, boots moving on the snow. 

Sansa was looking at him and stood, she was glued to the spot. "Go, Lady Bolton," Smalljon Umber told, and she shot him a glare as he decided to tell her what to do, not to mention calling her by that name. It didn't matter to him, and he smiled at her as frustration crept into her face. Ramsay's wife started to walk, and she saw how he turned his head to look for her. Ramsay didn't like to wait.

It was cold inside, and she couldn't get the comfortable feeling of getting warmer. She knew what would expect her, and she only wanted Ramsay to get it over with. Biting the inside of her mouth, she waited for her husband to lead her into a chamber. She wanted to lay in a warm bed and forget all about her situation, but she couldn't and mustn't forget. She was here to save Rickon and kill the bastard that took her home.

Ramsay's arm was around her waist, pulling her closer to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. He smiled as their lips met, and he was patient. He was probably very aware of her true intentions, but he wasn't angry. Ramsay knew how he would teach her what her place was. They separated as he moved back a few inches, and she could feel his breath tickling her face.

"Would you prefer to rest in your chamber? Or do you want to stay in mine for a while?" Sansa didn't know if she really had a true choice, but not giving him an answer wouldn't make anything better for her. She didn't care in which chamber she slept in as long as he didn't touch her.

"In my chamber, my lord. If you allow me to," she added carefully, her eyes glancing down at the floor for a moment to avoid Ramsay's gaze. The urge to ask him about Rickon grew bigger, and she couldn't contain her worry anymore. "May I see my brother?"

Ramsay's hands were on Sansa's arms, looking over her body as he thought about an answer. "You may sleep in your chamber. I'll send my handmaiden for you," he told her, intentionally ignoring her plea. "My wife. My beautiful, lovely wife. You can't believe how much I have missed you. Winterfell wasn't the same without you." He stroked her arm as he looked into her eyes, and another tear was about to be shed.

Sansa wanted to rip his eyes out of their sockets as he didn't talk about her brother that he starved and tortured. He was always cold, but he seemed to have gotten worse over the time. She wanted to go back to Jon. She didn't speak as Ramsay was slowly leading her through the castle in order to bring her to her chamber. Ramsay had taken her on their wedding night in said chamber. At some point she had to bite into the blanket underneath her to stop herself from screaming. All she remembered was Ramsay's chuckling and Theon's crying.

Myranda crossed her mind, and a smile actually tugged at her lips, bringing a good memory up before she eventually had escaped. The sound of the whore's blood splattering the ground as she fell to her death was the only thing that had amused her when she was in Winterfell. She wished that she would have gotten the chance to see her husband's face when he saw that his little toy died. 

Thoughts like this were comforting her sometimes, even if she knew that it was wrong to enjoy things like that. Perhaps living together with Ramsay had its impacts. She wanted to see Ramsay bleeding and dying. He was destroying the North, destroying her family. Rickon was probably whimpering in a corner, and she hadn't the chance to look for him. She was walking behind Ramsay, thinking about ways to get him to let her visit her little brother. 

They arrived in the familiar chamber. Ramsay opened the door and let her walk in first, and too many memories were coming back at once. The fire crackled in the fireplace and filled the room with warmth. She saw that the bed looked very nice, two thick blankets prepared for warming her body. Ramsay didn't close the door as he watched his wife taking steps torward the bed, and she eventually let herself sink to sit on the edge, her hand brushing the furs.

Ramsay was silent and his face was soft. Sansa looked up at him, waiting for him to leave her alone. "Now," he suddenly said with a loud, firm voice and put his hands behind his back. Two guards were entering the room, passing their lord as they walked toward Sansa. Her heart almost gave out, and she could feel it beating in her chest as if it wanted to jump out. She started to panic and tried to move back, but the two men already grabbed her arms, and she started to kick and shout. 

Ramsay watched the scene with a smile on his face. He had planned her punishment thoroughly. Sansa was making noises out of fear and tried to get the guards off of her, but it was useless. He strode through the room and stopped as he reached the end of the bed. His wife was staring at him, both fear and hate were present in her eyes. "No! Don't touch me!" she demanded, and her voice broke. "Please!"

The men held her arms tightly, and it hurt so much that it brought tears. She was still trying to kick them with her legs, but Ramsay only chuckled when her foot met his side as he sat on the bed. "Do that again and I'll let your brother watch." Sansa whined and glared at Ramsay as he mentioned Rickon. His eyes fell to the right guard. "Hold her." 

They obeyed and held her, and she was sure that her arms will be bruised afterwards. Sansa was helpless and at Ramsay's mercy. The Bolton shifted and crawled toward her before he knelt on the bed, bringing his hand down to her thigh while he smirked to himself. His wife kicked him a second time, and he brought his hands to her ankles, almost crushing them with his harsh grip.

She was already weeping, tears falling on the furs. "You have decided to run away from your husband, Sansa. You didn't really believe that you wouldn't face consequences, did you?" He paused for a short moment, caressing her thigh with one hand. "I am the Warden of the North, and you are my Wardeness. You know what that means." Sansa's eyes were wide as she grasped his words. "You will provide me with an heir."

She hadn't enough time to kick him again before he spread her legs, enjoying her screams. As soon as she heard the word heir, she was truly suffering. Ramsay always talked about a child, a Bolton that would rule the North after him. The thought of his child growing in her belly made her sick, and she tried to get free from the guards' grip before it would happen. Then, it slipped. "Bastard!"

Ramsay ripped her dress apart then slapped her as he heard the insult. It was deeply humiliating for her, it broke her. The guards laughed as she wiggled, and Ramsay chuckled along. "Has your half-brother taught you that? To be disrespectful?" He slapped her again and she let out a cry as she felt the sting on her cheek. He was positioned between her legs, holding them apart to stop her from closing them. She won't get away this time. "Our son will be strong. I can see that," he stated, and Sansa struggled on the bed like a fish that was taken out of the river.

"Please," she whined, tears never stopping to stream down her red face. "Ramsay," she tried to beg, and he was tugging at his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He was incredibly hard, and every scream that escaped his wife's throat made his cock twitch. She tried to move her hips, but Ramsay already grabbed them and pressed his erection against her cunt, sliding it up and down her slit.

She didn't want that thing inside of her, and she desperately fought against the grip of the guards. Ramsay's cock still rested on the same spot, and he was eager to produce his son. He had a feeling that he will manage to get her pregnant this time. Sansa's face was enough to make him wild, and he entered her, forcefully thrusting until his length was practically buried in her. They had done this numerous times, but none of them could be compared to this one. 

Sansa bit her own lip as she felt pain spreading in her lower body, whimpering and sniveling as her body was being abused by this monster. She didn't want his baby. "Get off me! Now!" she dared to scream, but she was instantly silenced as Ramsay's hands were on her neck, and she exhaled loudly. He was choking Sansa and kept pounding into her, already imagining how she will give birth to his heir. He was moaning and looked at Sansa's face as he stole her air, grinning at her wickedly. 

"Oh, Sansa. You can't give me orders," he breathed and thrusted faster, making her shriek like an animal that was pierced by an arrow. "My perfect wife," he moaned, and he had to be careful not to accidentally choke her to death. She wasn't capable of screaming anymore and made sounds that revealed pure fear. His hands were leaving her throat and wandered over her body, and he gave her breast a squeeze. Sansa stopped making sounds entirely, simply glaring at the ceiling. 

Ramsay came and moaned, and his guards instantly dropped Sansa's arms and went for the door. Sansa felt his hot seed in her body and started to count the days until her husband will die. She lay on the bed and didn't move nor speak, the urges to scream and cry disappeared. Ramsay spotted blood on the tip of his cock and glanced over at his wife. Sansa will be the woman who will give birth to his son. A true Bolton, just like himself. A feeling of pride washed over him.

He lowered his head and licked at her inner thighs and her cunt, cleaning his wife. Sansa screamed inwardly, and her nails were threatening to destroy the furs. She felt him shifting on the bed, and he was beside her, stroking her body with his hand. Ramsay was calm as he let his fingers dance along her skin. He placed a kiss on her collarbone and moved down, kissing her breasts. Sansa was like a corpse, laying beside him without reacting at all. She wanted to kill.

Ramsay was sucking at her nipple, and Sansa almost brought her hand to his face to slap him. Oh, how much she wanted to do that right now. She was clenching her jaw, and her husband looked up at her after her nipple was coated in his spit. "Sansa," he said, moving up to kiss her on the cheek, the cheek he had recently slapped. "I am proud of you, Sansa." His hand was on her stomach, slowly making circles as if the baby already were inside.

"I'm glad," Sansa snapped, obviously intending to show Ramsay her contempt while she still looked away from him. Ramsay smiled as soon as he heard his wife speak up. He must confess that he liked the way she liked to get bold. 

With his hand resting on her stomach, he leaned closer until his lips were next to her ear. He could sense her disgust. "Careful, wife," he warned gently and nibbled at her ear.

****

**__________**

Sansa watched her own reflection in the mirror as she sat in front of it while Ramsay was gently brushing her hair. Those hands that harmed and tortured were calm. She could still feel what he did inside her, what he had left inside her. Her husband was convinced that he had successfully impregnated her, but both of them had to wait. Although it was a terrible, cruel thought, Sansa was wishing for his heir to quickly die in the winter. But perhaps she wouldn't carry his son at all. 

Sansa always wanted a child. Her father had always been good and wanted his family to survive, even if it meant to sacrifice his own. The memories of Ned made her want to smile, but Ramsay's face in the mirror didn't make it possible. Giving Ramsay an heir would be the death of the North, the real North. 

The brush went through her red, soft hair, and Sansa thought that the moment of silence was awful. As if Ramsay read her mind, his lips parted to speak. "Is there something you want to apologize for, Sansa?" he asked while he took care of her strands.

Sansa knew what he meant, and there was nothing she would want to apologize for. If she had the chance, she would strap Ramsay to his own cross and gut him like a fish. That beast hurt her brother. She remained quiet in her chair, not looking into Ramsay's eyes as they were watching her face in the mirror. He smirked mischievously at her defiance and finished the last bits of hair before he put the brush aside.

"There. You look lovely," he said. "Beautiful." His hand was in her hair, playing with it before he eventually yanked her back. He had his hand turned into a fist as he pulled her hair, and his wife bit back a whimper. "Wouldn't it be sad if we ruined that pretty hair of yours? What would happen if my knife cut it off? I wonder if you were as beautiful as now if it did," he threatened gently as he whispered the words into her ear, watching her face.

Sansa's breathing quickened, and she slightly struggled against his grip. That made him smile even wider, and he released her hair. Sansa gasped as he let go of her, and her hand touched the back of her head. 

Ramsay was standing behind her and let his hands rest on the back of her chair. "I think not. You wouldn't look like a lady anymore. Not like my wife anymore," he suddenly mused, enjoying the fear he caused to arise in her. "People might as well mistake you for Reek if you were stinking in my kennels with all of that pretty hair gone." A lump has formed in her throat, and it was incredibly hard to keep the tears from streaming. "Imagine if that happened. I would have to marry someone else while you sleep with the hounds for the rest of your life," he continued as something in his pants became hard.

Sansa knew that Ramsay won't do that - not for now at least. He needed the parts from her that were needed to provide him with an heir. Thinking about the things he might do to her after he is satisfied made her skin crawl. Sansa thought about her little brother that was rotting in the dungeons. "I apologize for calling you a bastard, my lord." She was relieved when she got those words out of her mouth, hoping that it would appease Ramsay for a while. 

Ramsay smiled and kissed her cheek. "I assume that you want to see your brother. Come," he ordered friendly, waiting for her to rise from her chair. For a moment, she couldn't believe what he said and rose instantly. She almost glared at her husband and was more than eager to knock him out and take her brother. Still unsure about his true intentions, Sansa followed Ramsay as he opened the door to leave the chamber. She felt the pain between her legs as she walked, and she knew that Ramsay was aware of it. 

As they walked through the castle, Sansa's thoughts were practically everywhere. She thought of Jon, of Arya, of Rickon and of Bran. Her home didn't feel like a home anymore. Suddenly Ramsay was on her, pinning her to the wall, his face barely inches away from hers. His lips were grazing hers, and she let out a fearful whimper. She sounded like a frightened puppy. Looking right into his wife's eyes before he looked down at her lips, he breathed softly against her skin.

"I hope you will be a good girl from now on and stay here like the loyal wife you are," he whispered with a hint of amusement as she was trapped. "Don't try anything, Sansa." He finally let go of her, and her hands were shaking. Ramsay continued to walk and Sansa came with him, and she had the urge to wash her face, get the filth off her skin. She remembered how he once spat in her mouth and made her swallow it, and it was disgusting and degrading.

Sansa was waiting for reaching the dungeons while one part of her wanted to run in the other direction. She missed her little brother, and she could cry because of the mere fact that he was being kept by Ramsay Bolton. They might be married, but Sansa will never consider herself as a Bolton. It was getting colder, but her husband didn't seem to care at all. He must have spent days and weeks in those dungeons, breaking and hurting people for his own, twisted pleasure.

Sansa remembered way too many things that Ramsay has done, especially to Theon Greyjoy. She was hoping that he was safe, far away from the man that took away his pride. Then there were the hounds, his precious beasts. Ramsay made them chase Theon because he was bored, and the poor man broke his ankle while he was running through the woods. Only thinking about the things he might have done to her brother Rickon made her boil.

The door to the dungeon was opened, and Sansa's hand instantly fell to her own mouth as she tried to contain a scream. Her brother was strapped to a cross, blood running down his chin as it streamed from his nose. His lip was split, and he looked as if he had cried often. Ramsay had told his men to teach him some manners before he left, and he was pleased as he saw what they did. Rickon lifted his head and spotted his sister.

"Sansa," he managed to whisper, and she ran toward him, tears falling as she carefully touched her brother's bruised face. She was petrified as she saw what Ramsay had done to him. Rickon started to cry along and struggled against his bonds, yearning for a hug from his sister. "Sansa," he said again, a drop of blood falling to the ground. He wanted to be free from this cross, and he was begging Ramsay with his desperate face.

"This truly warms my heart," Ramsay mocked and touched his chest, grinning as he walked forward until he stood beside Sansa. "Have you been good while I was gone? It seems that my boys had to tame you quite much," he commented and tilted his head in interest as he observed his bleeding face. He wished that he could have seen it with his own eyes. "Poor boy. They were really rough with you. Have they hurt you somewhere else?" he asked with feigned concern and petted his head as if he were a dog.

Rickon glared at Ramsay and tried to wiggle away from his touch, but it was useless. He looked at Sansa, inwardly shouting for help. It broke Sansa's heart. She will get him out of here, even if she has to die for it. 

"Hm. I think I like you in this position. Sitting on the floor all day must have been boring anyways," Ramsay said, and Rickon whimpered at the thought of being on that cross forever. "But not today," he simply said and freed the boy from the straps that were around his ankles as he crouched down. He couldn't prepare, and Ramsay already loosened the straps that were crushing his wrists, and Rickon fell to the ground with a whine, his face hitting the ground first. 

Sansa got on her knees and tried to help Rickon to get up, but of course, Ramsay didn't let her do it. She felt how her wrist was being touched, and she was yanked away from her little brother who was weeping into the ground. 

"No, no. I didn't give you permission yet, or did I?" Sansa moved her arm around, trying to get rid of Ramsay's strong hand that was on her wrist. His eyes fell on Rickon again, and he smirked wide. "Rickon will crawl to us. Won't he?" The question was directed at her brother, and Sansa fantasized about murdering her husband. Rickon tried to lift his head, more blood streaming down his chin after Ramsay let him fall to the floor.

Rickon was shaking and got on his hands and knees. He tried to obey Ramsay and crawled toward the two figures that stood a few meters away, not seeing how Ramsay's hand was grabbing Sansa's ass. She clenched her jaw and had enough strength to bite a chunk out of his throat, and her cheeks became red with shame as he gave her a proper squeeze. 

"Yes. That's it. Very good," Ramsay praised as Rickon was about to reach them. The true torture had only begun for his captive. He refused to look up at him as he was on the ground, humiliated and beaten. Ramsay's hand let go of his wife's body. "Look at me." The command was sharp, and Sansa's brother slowly lifted his head. "You are in need of a bath, aren't you? My lady wife will take care of you," he announced and turned his head to look at Sansa.

Sansa looked back at him, not able to decide if she wanted to drown or burn Ramsay. But at least, she will have the chance to be with her brother again. She couldn't bear looking at his bloody face. 

"Won't she?" Ramsay pressed, and his wife nodded while she looked away from him. "Perfect," he said, looking down at Rickon again. "Did you hear that, little man? Your big sister will give you a bath!" 

Rickon wasn't able to express happiness, but he was more than glad to see his sister Sansa. He was nodding, and Ramsay's hand was in his hair to yank him up, holding him close to his face.

"You should be grateful, you stinking lord. If I left you here for another day you would smell like dog shit," he suddenly stated and laughed into Rickon's face. He let go of his hair and stared at him for a moment. Sansa was holding her little brother as he hugged her tightly, shaking and trembling after Ramsay's abuse. Sansa swore to never leave him alone again, not when Ramsay was here. "How sweet." Sansa's husband was smiling at them as if everything were alright. "Now, go and clean your brother. We will have a little family dinner tonight."

Sansa almost stopped breathing and held her brother as he buried his nails in her back as he held on to her. He was truly terrified, almost broken. "Yes," Sansa only answered, and her hatred and shock was clear in her tone.

"Wonderful!" Ramsay said with a happy face. "Follow me then," he ordered, leading them out from the dungeons. Sansa was positive that her little brother will be in that room for a while again after they ate together. She had to find a way to get him out of Winterfell. That was all she cared about.


	10. Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickon and Sansa suffer more and more as the time passes. Mira, Ramsay's servant, has a wish. Theon misses his old master.

Sansa was scrubbing Rickon's shoulder with care after she plunged the sponge into the water. He was shivering and sobbing as he sat in the tub, occasionally flinching away from his own sister's hand when it became too much for him. Not his sister was the one who caused him pain, it were the memories of Ramsay and the things he had done. The first few moments, he had cried so loud that Sansa had to calm him down, whispering into his ear that everything will be fine. Not now, but soon. Sansa swore to him that she will make Ramsay bleed. 

As she scrubbed further, she remembered how she was once in the position to be bathed. It was the kennel master's daughter, Myranda, who carefully cleaned her back while telling her sweetly how Ramsay had hunted girls. She had heard amusement in her voice, and she was horrified by the people who lived in her home, what they did. But, the kennel girl didn't survive long, and Theon was the one who caused the disgusting girl's life to end.

Sansa couldn't contain her tears at the sight of Rickon's scars and wounds. The scars on his back came from a whipping, and Ramsay had hit him several times. His upper body was bruised, and he had gotten so terribly thin that his ribs were visible underneath his skin. Sansa crushed the sponge in her hand to prevent herself from screaming out of fury. The bastard that called himself her husband would pay. She had seen Rickon in the dungeon before Ramsay ordered them to go to the tub, strapped to a cross with blood running down his chin.

Rickon told her about a book that he had loved to read as a child, back then when all of the Starks happily lived in Winterfell. He almost sobbed as he told her how Ramsay found it and ripped the pages out in front of his eyes. He did things to hurt Rickon for pure amusement, and he didn't know how long he would be able to bear it. 

"I hate him. I hate him, Sansa. I hate the Boltons!" he suddenly shouted, and Sansa instantly drew closer to put her arm around him, trying to give him comfort as the tears ran down his cheeks. He was just a child. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. From all of the Starks, he was the one who deserved it the least. Sansa's heart hurt everytime she looked into her brother's tired face, but she knew that she had to. It helped her understand why Ramsay had to be erased from Westeros.

A knock was heard, and Sansa let the sponge drop into the water while Rickon hid his face in his knees. She protectively put her hand on his back, softly telling him to be calm. Ramsay entered the room, and her eyes became wet. If he had stood outside of the room, listening to their conversation, Rickon would be punished again. He looked at his wife that knelt next to the tub, her hand on her brother's back while he weeped.

"I came to look if your little brother feels better, wife. Do not worry about me. Continue," Ramsay said. Sansa's eyes widened and her heart beat faster as she grew anxious. Her fingers started to shake, and Rickon didn't dare looking up. He saw that she didn't do as he said and he stepped closer. Sansa clenched her jaw and was ready to protect Rickon, no matter how it would be. Ramsay could punch her, break her nose, scream at her and threaten her, but she will not move away from her little brother.

Sansa grew highly suspicious of his calm voice and remained still. After raping her when she arrived and possibly put a little Bolton in her, she won't do so much anymore. Maybe his whores did that, but Sansa was not a whore. The temptation to point out how low Ramsay is compared to her was like an itch. He was only a bastard that wasn't loved by his father. Sansa saw why. A light smirk appeared on her face as she looked past him.

Ramsay was almost puzzled. "Something that is amusing you, my dear?" The question sent a shiver down Rickon's spine, and he was afraid of feeling Ramsay's fists hitting his stomach again. He carefully lifted his head, wondering what his sister was up to. Sansa's eyes met her husband's. Her smile has disappeared quickly.

"No, my lord. I am just happy to have you here," she said with obvious mockery, and Ramsay thought that he would love to play along, which also meant great pain for her baby brother. His wife liked to try how far she could go again. No matter what he had done to her, there was still a spark of courage inside of her. Ramsay grinned and grabbed her chin roughly, and Rickon gasped.

"If you are so very happy about me being here, why don't you prove it? I intented to give you rest today, but you, my sweet, changed my mind." He patted her head as her whole confidence fell from her face. She brought herself into a situation she wouldn't like at all. Rickon was so nervous that Ramsay started to laugh. "Sansa. Rise. I will take care of Rickon. Until it's night, go and have some fun with our hounds," he added sadistically, kissing her cheek.

Sansa's cheeks grew red with anger and embarrassment, and she rose. Rickon's hand automatically snatched her wrist. He couldn't let her go. Disappointed in herself, she bumped into her husband as she was about to storm out of the room. She was so disgusted by what Ramsay had promised her that she didn't have the strength to stand in front of him with a calm face. If he hurts Rickon in there, she will make sure to hurt his hounds that he loved so very much.

Ramsay carefully knelt down and was beside the tub, shoving up his sleeves before he took the sponge that swam around in the water. Rickon trembled and felt himself getting cold instead of warm, no matter how hot the water was. He stared at Ramsay's hand that was scrubbing his chest with the sponge. The boy's lips were quivering, and he whimpered in frustration when Ramsay scrubbed his face, muffling his quiet sobs.

Rickon's nose was broken, and fresh blood flowed down his face not too long ago. He whined when Ramsay intentionally scrubbed the area near his nose, getting softer with his cheeks. "Rickon," he started while he cleaned his arms, "Do you think it is right to hate someone who takes care of you? Who decided to keep you instead of feeding you to starving hounds? Who is scrubbing blood off of you at this very moment?"

Rickon froze as he realized that Ramsay heard what he said before. "I am sorry, I didn't mean what I said, my lord," he desperately babbled, but Ramsay was well aware of how little Rickon felt toward him. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but he stopped trying as he saw Ramsay's cold eyes piercing him. He wanted to be with Sansa. 

Ramsay concentrated on bathing him again and looked on his shoulder as he scrubbed it. Rickon was incredibly tense. Good, Ramsay thought. He suddenly smiled, looking at him with a gentle expression. "Alright." Rickon couldn't tell what he was really thinking right now. He was standing again, grabbing some clothes nearby for Rickon to wear. The boy's eyes followed him, and he almost refused leaving the tub. He didn't want to go back to the dungeons again. "Here." Ramsay held out his hands, presenting his clothes. Rickon gulped and looked up at Ramsay to see any sign of malice. He nodded as he took the clothes.

After he finished dressing, Ramsay opened the door and waited for Rickon to leave the room. Still frightened, he walked away, hoping that he would be with Sansa. But Sansa was not here. She must have be in her chamber or in the courtyard. He cried out when a hand was in his hair, yanking him back roughly. It hurt, and Ramsay only twisted his hair further, hearing the boy starting to cry. "No, please!" he begged, and he screamed when he felt his face being squished against the wall. 

"You dare to say those vile things about me while you sit in my tub, Rickon?" Rickon was weeping as Ramsay stood behind him while pressing him to the wall. "Perhaps I made a terrible mistake. I should turn you into a warm cloak for my wife to wear when it's getting cold," he threatened, and the boy started sobbing. "You are ungrateful. You sat in my dungeon, get fed and bathed, but you don't appreciate it. That's alright. You just need to learn a few things," he finally whispered, and just as Rickon thought that Ramsay would leave him, he felt pain spreading in his head. Ramsay started to pull at his hair, harder and harder until he eventually ripped a few out of his scalp.

Ramsay let go of Rickon and he fell to his knees while he screamed. He had no mercy, not a single bit. He wouldn't even flinch if Rickon was torn to shreds by his hounds. Ramsay only kept the boy because he was useful. The Bolton almost forgot about Bran. He must have seen everything they did the last few hours. A smirk was on Ramsay's face, and he thought about visiting him again soon. 

"Your first lesson will start today. You will be my new servant, Rickon." He paused for a moment and saw Rickon's devastated expression. The Stark boy was still shedding tears as he knelt on the ground, his hand pressed to his own head. "You should be happy to earn that privilege." 

Ramsay smiled down at Sansa's brother. This will be fun indeed. He bent and placed his hand on his head, ruffling the knotted hair. It almost felt like petting a stray dog. He wondered how he could extend his punishment for behaving like a disrespectful brat, how far he would go this time. Ramsay might eventually break him this time, and there will be no bastard named Jon Snow that came to rescue him. He toyed with many ideas, and the fact that Sansa and Bran were able to witness it now was utterly entertaining.

"Your first task is to clean the hall. The floor has gotten quite dirty over the weeks," he started, and Rickon buried his face in his knees again, softly sobbing. "Your sister and I will dine together tonight. I want you to make her feel comfortable, so you'll scrub every single spot. You'll fetch us wine if we ask it of you, and I'd recommend you not to be clumsy."

Rickon eventually looked up at Ramsay, lips still quivering. "Please forgive me, please," he begged, wishing that Ramsay would decide to stop the punishment. "Please," he said again, but Ramsay only chuckled gently.

"You have brought it on yourself. Don't make me repeat myself. Go and fetch a bucket, you'll start cleaning the hall now. You should be familiar with all the spots, you grew up here, didn't you? Now go," he commanded, and Rickon nodded and rose from the ground, wiping tears off of his face as he left. 

****

**__________**

Mira happily snuggled into Ramsay while he panted, placing her hand on his chest. They were lying in his bed, and he had promised her to fuck her, and so he did. He had been in the mood for two rounds, and he was surprised when she attacked him with her nails which resulted in his back and ass cheeks being bruised. Ramsay enjoyed the sting and pain as her nails scratched him, just like Myranda's back then, who had practically ripped his skin open with her tiny hands, and his whole body was bleeding, and he loved it.

Mira playfully nipped at his neck with her teeth, teasing him as she let her lips explore the area. He smirked and brought his hand to her hair, pulling her head back to bite her lip. He had enjoyed having his wife back, but his favourite, feisty servant had been on his mind too while he was gone. Mira moaned and licked her own blood, and Ramsay smirked in her face. Her hand was on his hip, and she moved down to his ass, grabbing the hurt cheek which made Ramsay hiss with a smile.

"I am glad to have you back, my lord," she eventually said and placed a soft kiss on his chest. Ramsay was pleased, and he was absolutely sure that he could spend the whole day in this room. She looked into his eyes, a dark smirk was on her face. "Were those screams from your wife?" she asked. Ramsay was well aware that she might possessed similar traits when it came to himself.

Ramsay's lips tilted up, and he was more than glad to answer the question. "I simply welcomed my lady back. She is my wardeness, which means that she'll give me lovely sons," he stated with pride. He wondered if he managed to impregnate his disloyal wife this time. 

"What a lucky wife you have," she said, and Ramsay liked the dark irony. "Ramsay," she said for the first time, and he didn't seem to be bothered. Instead, his eyebrows were lifted.

"Yes?"

"There was something I wanted to ask of you," she started, and it made Ramsay interested. The expression in her face revealed that he might have some fun. Her hand was caressing his chest, and she looked to the side before she eventually told him what she wanted. "Not far away, there's a small house. My older sister, the whore, never got to learn how to show respect. She always taunted me, laughed at me when I cleaned the pots too sloppily." She paused, and she saw that Ramsay listened attentively. "I want you to hurt her, Ramsay. To show her what she is really deserving. She thinks she is better than me, she always said it in my face."

Ramsay became excited at the thought of tormenting a new person. He didn't know that Mira had a sister, and he was quite pleased with her wish. "If that's so, we'll have no other choice but to teach her some manners, don't you think?" He started to caress her cheek, and she leaned into his touch with a happy smile. "What is your sister's name?"

Mira's eyes opened. "Patsy," she answered sweetly, though it was clear that she despised her. "I want Patsy to suffer, but I want her to suffer because of you," she almost whispered, feeling herself growing wet. Ramsay drew closer, and his lips brushed hers, almost kissing her. He was actually ready to grant her wish. 

"Poor Patsy," Ramsay mocked, eventually kissing Mira on the lips, and she moaned softly. "And how do you want to do that?" he asked with interest. A wave of excitement hit Mira at the thought of her sister being completely shocked and scared at the sight of Ramsay, after the things he'd do to her. And she'd get to witness every single second. It was a dream that was about to be fulfilled. Ramsay could be so cruel, and Mira was always rather fascinated by it than frightened. Her dumb sister Patsy though would piss herself after he beat her.

Mira sat and pushed a few strands of dark hair off of her face. "We will surprise her when it's early. She won't suspect a thing, and as soon as we have her, she won't get away. She might be pretty and fast, but she will be as terrified as a little baby as soon as you play with her."

"When _we_ play with her," Ramsay corrected gently and cupped her face. He had always liked those blue eyes, her dark, almost black hair. Although he preferred his wife's beautiful red hair, Mira was a stunning sight. Her breasts were far bigger that those of Myranda and Sansa, he noticed, and he licked his lip at the sight of her chest. The sadistic servant noticed and smirked, and she rose from the bed. Ramsay's eyes followed her as she stood by the table. She picked up a knife that belonged to him.

Her finger slid over the sharp weapon, almost drawing blood. She turned around, and Ramsay's face brightened at the sight of her holding such a dangerous object. She looked down at it as she started to speak. "I am imagining _this_ in her body. So sharp," she said, shortly looking at him.

"Our blades are sharp," Ramsay commented proudly, and Mira was familiar with those words. She was a servant of him after all. Every single servant who wasn't showing enough respect toward his house was fed to the hounds before they could try to sneak their way out. Mira felt a tickle between her legs, and she walked back toward the back with the knife in her right hand. Ramsay looked at her with hungry eyes, and they were glittering with happiness. Mira knelt down on the bed and positioned herself next to Ramsay. 

"Your tongue is too," she suddenly said, drawing closer until she was above his face. Ramsay understood and was highly agreeing on it inwardly, adjusting his position, and he watched as she lowered herself to sit on his face. She started to smile and moan as soon as she felt the hands on her hips and his tongue on her clit. He licked her wet folds, moaning as he tasted her juices after she already came twice not too long ago. She thought of Patsy getting her face skinned by Ramsay, and she was moaning louder as he pleasured her from below. Mira rode his face and pulled his hair before she eventually came, and she panted while she got off of him. It went quite fast, but the arousal was being built up before, which made it easy for her. 

Ramsay smirked and licked his lips, tasting the remaining juices that were sticking to his lower face. He won't get bored of her, that was a thing he was sure about. The knife ended up next to them, and Mira grabbed it again before Ramsay had a chance. She smirked at him mischievously and placed her hand on his cheek. 

"Good. Now flip over, my lord." Ramsay obeyed and did as he was told, revealing his scarred ass and back. Those scars were from her nails, but a knife was so much more capable of marking someone. Ramsay's servant wanted him to know that she was his, and so, she decided to play with his skin. He shoved his face in the pillow and felt his cock being pressed up against the bed as Mira shifted. He loved having power over everyone, but giving up the control occasionally had its perks too. 

She ran the knife down his body, and he twitched softly as she drew blood. Mira was carefully first, preparing him for what's about to come. She knew how much he yearned for this feeling, and she was more than happy to make him feel good. "Where does Lord Ramsay likes to bleed?" she playfully mused, and he was grinning into the pillow. He groaned when he felt pain in his buttom which was followed by a quiet moan. She made a tiny cut on his ass cheek, and she let the knife trail down his thigh. "I could cut off your balls, Lord Bolton," she threatened sweetly. "You like to do that to naughty princes, don't you?" She obviously heard of Reek. 

Ramsay moaned another time when he felt teeth in his shoulder, biting down. Mira was lying on top of him now, her body being pressed against his own. She nuzzled her face in his hair and gently nibbled at his earlobe. She was deeply enjoying this moment, and she couldn't wait for the day her pig faced sister will beg for mercy. Mira placed kisses on his upper back and heard him make soft noises that were muffled by the furs. 

"Come," she whispered into his ear, and it didn't take him long to do that. He was moaning and panted as he rolled himself on his back again, Mira kneeling beside him. Both had pleasured each other in amusing ways, and Ramsay was thinking about his wife and her brothers, his servant's sister he would torture. 

Mira clung to him and closed her eyes, deciding to rest. Ramsay thought that he could have some time that he could spend with sleeping. He would look after his wife and his captives later. Ramsay was closing his eyes and smiled to himself as all of those possibilities that could happen were on his mind. 

****

**___________**

Theon found himself sitting in the sand once again, watching the waves. Although Yara didn't like it the first time, he found a way to escape the other Ironmen and hid at the sea, having peace for a few hours. He hadn't seen the sea for such a long time back then when he was at Winterfell. The only way he got to approach water was by getting his head shoved in a bucket as a punishment until he almost passed out. 

He missed his master Ramsay more and more everyday. Though he had escaped and betrayed him and stole his wife, he was thinking about him as much as he could - now that Euron was here, terrorizing him and his sister whenever he got the chance. Hate wasn't something Theon was capable of anymore. He thought that he hated Euron, but it wasn't that. It was pure fear. Back then, when he was loyal and stupid Reek, he didn't have to think, not to worry or to decide because his master did all those things for him. 

Theon's left eye twitched as he remembered what was between his legs. Ramsay had taken it away from him and sent it to his father and Yara. But Lord Ramsay, merciful and gentle Lord Ramsay, had given him a bath as a reward for his obedience. He loved his master, he really did. Sometimes he missed the way he gave him a pat on the head when he was good, when he fed him scraps after he was starving for days. Euron wouldn't have done that. He would drown him and leave his corpse to rot.

Theon knew that it was terribly wrong, especially now. Yara needed him, she needed Theon Greyjoy. He ran from Ramsay, and now he started to feel like his old self. Was he turning mad? Perhaps he shouldn't spend so much time at the sea. It only made him think too much, and thinking was a thing that Reek- Theon shouldn't do too much in his condition. 

Uneasy, he rose, staring at the ground. He shouldn't think about Ramsay. There was a time where he served him, but that time was over. He walked away from the spot he sat on and thought about going back to Yara. It would be the best for him to hide in his chamber, like the coward he really was. 

He tried to pick up the pace, slowly starting to worry about his sister. Theon had left without telling her, and if his uncle considered hurting her, he couldn't forgive himself for not protecting her. He remembered how Euron once ripped the glove from his hand and pointed out that he had missing fingers, and the other men had laughed along. Theon had fought against tears, and the memory alone almost managed to make him whimper. It was terrible being back here.

A few Ironmen were sitting on large rocks while two others fought against each other. Theon tried to avoid eye contact, but of course, he wasn't lucky. The two Ironborn bumped into him as they tried to beat each other, falling to the ground along with Theon. The larger man shoved the other off of him and glared at Theon as he recoginzed him. Since Euron has arrived, the other Ironborn weren't particularly fond of his presence. They were mocking him. 

Theon had the urge to stand as he was on his back, but he couldn't. The man stood up and had a taunting expression on his face. "Were you travelling again, eunuch? Euron is already looking for you, you better hurry before he finds out that you are bothering us," he snarled, and Theon flinched as he came closer. He raised his eyebrows at him and grinned wide. Ramsay once kicked him between his legs after he cut certain parts off, and it hurt greatly. He had worn the same grin.

"I'm sorry," Theon simply said, afraid of making the man aggressive. He inched back as he was on the ground, and all eyes were on him. Theon gulped a lump that was in his throat, and he thought that he would get a panic attack if they kept tormenting him. "I will go now," he told them frantically, standing up, and a hand was on his shirt, grabbing him whilst pulling him forward. The other Ironborn's hot breath hit his face, and he couldn't manage to look him in the eyes. 

"One day, coward, you'll be a dead body in the sea. Just like your old fucking father," he threatened before he pushed him away, and Theon almost fell down again. He smiled over at his friends and chuckled, and they laughed at Theon's fear. "Now do us a favour and fuck off," he spat at him, and Theon did as he was told with tears in his eyes. He could hear laughter behind him as he walked away, but he didn't care. He only wanted to be safe. Perhaps leaving Winterfell was a mistake.


	11. Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Mira torment and capture Patsy, Mira's sister. Sansa meets the servant for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Hope you enjoy.

Sansa's eyelids fluttered as she was awakened by the morning sky. It didn't take her long to remember what happened in the night after she angered Ramsay. He didn't break his promise and had savagely taken her on his bed before he rolled off of her and went to sleep while she was crying beside him. Her whole body hurt, she felt as if she had been thrown against the stone wall. 

Sansa realized that she wasn't in her own chamber, but in her husband's. Looking up, she saw his face. He was smiling down at her, his hand starting to stroke her thigh. She was too weak to stand up and escape, to bite or kick him like she often tried to. It always ended with more pain, and she had learned from it. Her brother Rickon had to scrub the floor while they were eating at the dinner table, and Ramsay had taunted him as he was under the table, cleaning every spot before he was punished further.

Sansa didn't manage to finish her dinner while Ramsay was happily taking sips from his wine, talking about the old days. Her hate toward Ramsay grew with each day. Lying in her husband's bed, she glanced over at the window. She imagined throwing herself down from there, her body hitting the ground just like Myranda's back then. At least she wouldn't have to endure this daily torment. The only reason she was willing to breathe was the fact that she had a family to protect and a lord to murder. The day will come when the Starks will get their revenge.

Ramsay drew closer and kissed her on the lips, and Sansa didn't defy him as she screamed inwardly. He sat up and shoved the blanket off if him, revealing his naked body. Only a few hours ago, her face was between his thighs, forced to take him into her mouth. Sansa didn't tremble when he grabbed the blanket that warmed her, removing it from her back. She was lying on her stomach, and Ramsay smirked when he saw what he had done to her. He had buried his nails in her back, slowly scratching her skin open while she whimpered. He also took notice of the bite marks on her ass cheek.

"I have the feeling that this will be a wonderful day," Ramsay began as he stood up from the bed, walking toward the window. Sansa stared into the air. "Don't you agree, wife? We should take a walk like we always did back then. We can take Rickon with us if you want." Her brother's name struck a nerve, and she started to sit up, searching for her dress before she could leave. Ramsay kept looking out of the window, watching the courtyard of Winterfell. All those people were already working in the cold.

Ramsay remembered the day his fat step-mother appeared next to his father. She had been intimidated by him as soon as she saw him, and she always tried to hide it. Ramsay was very skilled at detecting liars. There had also been Reek who was chased through the courtyard by Myranda, and Ramsay had chuckled as he saw the kennel master's daughter giggling in joy as his pathetic pet ran away like a mouse, eventually tripping and falling directly on his face. 

They left him in the dirt and returned to the dungeons, fucking each other until everyone could hear them. Ramsay indeed missed the old days. Now he had found Mira, a playful and wicked servant, and today was the day both of them started a new game. Her sister Patsy was out there, unaware of the consequences she has to face.

"Where is Rickon?" The question made Ramsay turn around, looking at his wife with a perplexed face. She was so worried about her little brother that she forgot her own place, which had led to her recent punishment. Sansa would be a naive girl if she thought that it already ended. He watched as she grabbed the blanket again, covering her chest along with her hard nipples that were caused by the cold.

"He is still breathing, dear, and you don't need to worry," he answered gently. Truth was that the Stark boy had been strapped to the cross for the whole night, and he didn't mind leaving him there for another day. "My handmaiden will give you a bath before we attend to our other tasks today. She's taking care of the horses, and she should be finished soon," he informed her, and Sansa didn't even listen properly. She only wanted to see her brother Rickon again. 

Ramsay was busy with putting on his clothes, and Sansa didn't move from the bed. She was frozen, and her husband took notice. She could have stayed at Castle Black with her brother Jon, being free from the Bolton's grip. But she had decided to take the chance to save her little brother, and she won't leave Winterfell before she hadn't done that. Ramsay sat down on the bed and pulled his boots on.

"There's something else I completely forgot to show you, my wife," he told her as he stood up again, and worry spread on Sansa's face. What had been left for him to show her? Was it more pain for Rickon? Or her? "Come. If you'll be quick, you'll be able to see it before you take a bath. You'll be so happy," he said with a smile. He picked up the dress that lay on the floor and tossed it to her. "Get dressed."

Sansa did as she was told, trying to put on her dress as quickly as possible. She was standing, and Ramsay looked at her naked body as she was busy with her dress that was in her shaking fingers. He suddenly drew closer, softly taking it from her hands, and she looked up at him with a confused face.

"Let me help you." Ramsay was now behind her, moving her hair aside to place a kiss on her neck. She was desperately waiting for the dress to be on her, but her husband's lips stayed, leaving more kisses while one hand was on her stomach. Ramsay let her clothing fall to the ground, and Sansa knew what happened. He wanted her. Sansa felt tears arising, and she tried to refrain herself from squirming as Ramsay held her body against his, pressing his hard member against her. 

She felt his breath on the back of her neck, and she whimpered softly when he decided to bite her, his hands exploring her hips and breasts. She was on the verge of crying, still feeling the pain inside her after he was done playing with her in the night.

"Don't worry. We'll play soon enough," he whispered into her ear before he helped her with the dress. Sansa almost sighed in relief, which she gladly didn't, and she let Ramsay help her into her clothes. "Today is a very important day for me. I want you to take care of Rickon while I am gone. Can you do that for me?" he asked her with slight amusement in his tone. She gulped a huge lump and nodded quickly, Ramsay grinned as he stood behind her. "Perfect."

Sansa thought about Rickon who was probably suffering right now. At least Ramsay was away from him at the moment, but as soon as he'll be back, Rickon's misery will be too. "You said you wanted to show me something. Before I will take a bath. My lord," she began, and her fingers threatened to shake again. She knew that taking a bath always meant to share a long night with her cruel husband.

"That is correct. And I will, my wife," Ramsay responded as his hand was suddenly on her throat, and he felt her gulp. He could snap her neck and let her body fall to the ground. His other hand went to her stomach, slowly caressing it. Sansa's body stiffened at his touch, and she prayed to the gods that the baby won't be born. "My heir," he almost cooed, smiling as he thought of his future son. "Maester Wolkan will take a look at you today. I can't wait to hear what he says," he whispered into her ear before he kissed her on the cheek.

A knock on the door was heard, and a servant came in. It seemed that Ramsay knew her, Sansa noticed, and she bowed as she stood before them. "My lord. My lady. I have come to give you a bath," Mira told her politely, and she glanced over at Ramsay. Today was the day they will capture her sister Patsy, and she will suffer greatly. Mira and Ramsay both fantasized about it since they got up, and they were soon ready. His poor wife was completely unaware of it, but she will see her soon.

"Well, my lady. Follow her. It's too late to show you the surprise now. Later, perhaps," he said and chuckled, and Sansa felt really uncomfortable around those two. She had the feeling that they were planning something. Ramsay's wife nodded again, and she followed Mira as she left the room. Ramsay sat down on the chair and picked up one of his sharpest knives. It will suffice for making Patsy suffer.

****

**__________**

Sansa got into the tub, still feeling dirty after Ramsay had used her over and over again the previous night. The water was colder than usual, but she didn't complain. It wasn't the worst that could happen. The servant she had never seen before came back with a bucket and a sponge. Sansa almost flinched when she felt those unfamiliar hands on her back, moving her hair aside.

"Oh no. That looks really painful. Has Ramsay been very harsh, my lady?" Mira asked innocently, and Sansa wanted to turn around to glare at her face. She was smiling lightly, bringing the sponge to her upper back, touching the scars. The handmaiden sounded way too calm to be concerned. It seemed that Myranda hadn't been the only servant who was trouble.

"This is none of your concern," Sansa responded coldy. She wouldn't let herself be threatened by a low, stupid servant who kissed Ramsay's boots all day, and she wasn't in the place to ask such questions. She only wanted to be bathed quickly in order to visit her poor brother.

Mira pressed the sponge against her back, and one scar started to sting. "You know, being disrespectful causes Ramsay to do certain things. I would be careful if I were you, my lady. I heard about your beautiful wedding night. It hurt for days, didn't it? You couldn't even sit or walk properly because it felt like he were still inside you," she continued, her hands now in Sansa's hair. 

Sansa inhaled, and her tears threatened to run down her face. Not because of sadness, but because of pure anger and fury. The girl dared to speak about the worst day in her life, and it seemed that she was on Ramsay's side. It was disgusting. "Get your hands off of me before I make you regret it," Sansa hissed through her teeth. Mira only chuckled and washed her hair, shifting closer until her lips were near her ear.

"And then what? What will you do to me, Lady Bolton? Will you tell Lord Bolton? Your husband? Or will you take care of it yourself? I am curious," she whispered, and Sansa clenched her jaw. "Your little brother is so sweet. Rickon is his name, isn't it? The poor boy is so scared and frightened. Hounds can smell it. Fear. They would love to hunt him before they take a chunk out of his body. They want fresh meat-"

Sansa rose, left the tub and grabbed Mira by her hair, yanking her up to slam her against the wall. Mira gasped as her head hit something hard, but the smile didn't leave her face. She got what she wanted. "Talk about my brother again and I will kill you. I don't care what Ramsay will say or do, but I will get rid of you if you don't shut your mouth. You are a servant, and you should act like one. I met worse people than you, and they are gone now. Don't play games with me," Sansa growled into the girl's face, and she wouldn't hesitate to make her words come true.

"You don't? You seem to be devastated, yet you claim to not be afraid of Lord Bolton. You can threaten me, you can try to kill me, but our lord will always get what he wants. I can see the fear in your eyes, my lady. Now, get in the tub. I am not done with you," she said politely, but Sansa didn't move. 

"You will not give me orders. I will clean myself. Go back to Ramsay and tell him that I don't need you. I will break your hand if you touch me again," Sansa told her calmly yet seriously. The servant was stubborn. She stood in front of her, still smiling up at her like a happy child. 

"You will? You would go that far? If you are that brave, why don't you tell it your lord husband yourself? Go on, I will not stop you. Or," she said, stepping closer. "Are you afraid that he will take you and punish you? Do you fear that he will take you again, like on your wedding night? Until your cunt will hurt?"

Sansa had enough, and she smacked Mira across the face, her hand connecting with her left cheek and lips. The girl gasped again and held her cheek that was red, and blood appeared on her bottom lip. Sansa expected the servant to finally leave her alone, but it made everything worse. She was laughing. The wicked handmaiden was laughing in her face. 

"I am impressed, my lady! You really are like he told me. A wild wolf." Mira was patient, and she was enjoying this moment. This place was filled with violence and hate, games and tears. She had always dreamed of it. "Is that everything? Will you get in the tub now? Or will you teach me a lesson first?" she asked, biting her lip slowly, her voice getting low and calm. The urge to hurt her was huge, but Mira seemed to like this way too much.

Sansa stood still, looking at the girl's face. She licked her lips, tasting her own blood as she looked up at her. Not even Myranda had acted like this toward her. Was she seeking violence and pain? If she did, she should have stayed with Ramsay. 

"You said you would kill me. How would you kill me?" she asked, her eyes wide open and her lips turning into a smile, and Sansa wanted to run away. Take Rickon, ride back to Jon and hide forever. "Would you do it quickly? Or would you like it to be slow and painful? I have angered you, didn't I?"

Sansa didn't want to give the girl what she wanted, but she was far too eager to show the servant her place. She wasn't the type to intentionally torture someone, no. It disgusted her, and she couldn't wait for her and Ramsay to be gone later. "You have. You will not talk about my brother. Not in my presence, and not in someone else's. Now, go."

"Would you like me to apologize, Lady Bolton?" Mira asked, and it was clear that she wasn't talking about words she had offer. She was truly perfect for Ramsay. Sansa didn't want to appear furious, and she simple turned her head away.

"I forgive you. Leave." Mira only nodded, though she was pleased with their conversation and meeting Ramsay's wife, and she left. Sansa sighed and returned to the tub, feeling more dirty than before. She sat in the water, staring at the wall while she thought about Rickon, Ramsay, Jon and that servant. It was a mistake going back to Winterfell. 

****

**___________**

"And you know where she is?" Ramsay asked as he took his bow after fetching enough arrows. Mira was excited as she waited for Ramsay. She couldn't wait for him to torment her bratty sister. They had enough weapons with them, and they knew that Patsy will soon beg for her life. Mira already had some ideas in her little head, and she was eager to tell Ramsay. She knew that he would love it. 

"I do. She's lonely. Nobody could protect her," she told him, and Ramsay liked it. They were on their way, walking through the courtyard. Some people were looking at them, wondering where their lord would go with a servant. It was better for them not to ask too much. "I can't wait for you to make her crawl. She will beg in the dirt, where she belongs. And these arrows," she mused, smiling as she already imagined them in her sister's body, "will make her scream and bleed." She smirked at Ramsay, and he did the same.

"You really do want to see her suffer, don't you?" he asked, utterly excited and amused by the new game. The fact that this servant, who looked so sweet and innocent, felt pleasure when someone is being in pain was something that managed to make him hard. "We will see what'll make her suffer, sweet. I promise," he said, and then his wife came to his mind. "Why did my wife send you away? Have you bothered her?"

Ramsay wasn't angry at all. In fact, he enjoyed his wife being on the verge of crying. "I apologize, Ramsay. I may mentioned some things that bothered her. I didn't know that she was the kind of women who would," she paused, and Ramsay saw her lip. He knew that his wife had lost her patience and smacked his servant. Ramsay noticed how a little smile appeared on her face as she remembered it, and it drove him wild. She was truly perfect.

"You like being our little servant, don't you? If only the others knew about your filthy secret. You _need_ it." Ramsay loved how she was craving those things. She'd let herself be hurt by everyone who offered it, but getting it from a lord and a lady was something she truly yearned for. "A dirty thing you are," he told her gently.

Mira's cheeks grew red, and she would lie if she claimed that she wasn't wet. Making her sister cry will only make it better. "I try to be as good as I can," she purred, and the lie made Ramsay want to take her on the ground. "I want my lord and lady to be pleased," she added, and Ramsay couldn't wait to introduce her to more games. 

"Well, you'll have enough time to prove it. Now, show me our little prey," he whispered into her ear, and she chuckled softly. They were near the woods, and her sister's ugly house wasn't far away. Ramsay knew that few, poor people were living here, but most of them died of hunger. Once, a man was begging him for food, and he eventually ended up in the kennels, the hounds devouring him as he screamed. Patsy would probably live a bit longer to learn from her mistakes. Perhaps some days, perhaps some months.

"There. She's there," she quickly whispered as she saw Patsy kneeling on the ground near the river. Mira wanted to kick her into the cold river, but that would probably kill her. She couldn't swim, and the water would be frozen soon. "Shoot her," Mira ordered, grinning wide as she looked at her unaware sister. She had blonde hair and didn't look like Mira at all. Patsy suddenly stood, not turning around, and Ramsay drew the bow. 

Mira's sister screamed when an arrow pierced her leg, and she fell to the ground while blood ran down her skin, eventually meeting snow. She didn't stop crying out and stared at the thing in her body that came out of nowhere. Ramsay and Mira smiled and left their hideout, walking toward the poor girl. She didn't expect it at all. Patsy sat on the ground and looked up as Mira suddenly stood before her. Tears ran down her cheeks as she recognized the person she always hated.

"You," Patsy breathed while her leg was hurting terribly, and she sobbed as she saw how her blood left her body. A man was joining her, and she started to get confused. He had a bow in his hand, calmly smiling down at her. "Who are you? Why have you done this? Why?" she shouted, anger and sadness both noticeable in her voice. "Please," she whispered, trying to get away, but Mira stomped on her ankle, not allowing her to get away that easily.

"You should be respectful, dear sister. You are speaking to a lord. And you should know that you will do as we say now," she told her, actually feeling powerful, and Ramsay looked at her while she spoke. He was in heaven. "You are talking to Lord Ramsay Bolton, the Warden of the North. He shot you," Mira explained to her in a calm way, and Patsy glared at her. 

"You little brat! I knew that you were crazy, but you turned into a complete witch!" Patsy spat at her little sister, and it was a big mistake to do so. Ramsay gasped and feigned shock, and he looked at his servant who was already planning what to do next. "Why are you doing this? You weren't here for years! Why did you come?" The frustration grew in Patsy.

"Because you will learn. You have always thought that you had power over me, that you are above me. But, dear sister, you are nothing but a worm. You have to realize that before you'll leave us," she stated ever so sweetly, looking over at Ramsay. This felt better than fucking, he realized, and he wanted Mira to enjoy herself. 

"What did you sa-" Patsy stopped talking as Ramsay's boot was on her head, pushing her face in the dirt. She squirmed underneath him, her hands trying to free herself, but she only heard two chuckling voices. Mira almost moaned as she saw Ramsay's face, how he was amused himself. 

"I am sorry, sister, but you won't run away from us anymore. You won't live like a person anymore. You aren't a person. Just a pest," she hissed, and Ramsay stepped off of her, sneering at her as he saw her filthy face. She spat out dirt and sobbed again, feeling completely humiliated. "Get up, big sister. Kneel before your lord," she commanded.

Patsy only looked up at her sister before she saw Ramsay. He was smirking, and she had the feeling that he was quite dangerous. Hissing as she felt the arrow in her leg, she tried to look like she was kneeling, and she sniffled, not able to look at his face. "You look disgusting," Ramsay stated, and Patsy cringed. "Now look at me before I skin you," he threatened. He had his flaying knife with him, so this wasn't an empty threat.

"I think her skin would look quite lovely on your walls, my lord. It's not like she has use for it now anyway. Isn't that right, dog?" she asked, and Ramsay was surprised at the way she addressed her. He loved it. "That's what we'll do! Patsy, you'll be our new dog," she announced, and it was as if she said the things Ramsay would say. He let her talk on purpose, it was her who wanted to have revenge. "And you should be grateful to be Lord Bolton's dog. Show him how grateful you are, little bitch," she cooed, and Patsy started to cry again. 

Mira grabbed her hair, yanked at it and knelt, her breath on her sister's ear. She took her time to watch her suffering, how the tears ran down her face. Patsy looked like a baby. Her sister would even suffer way more than she was now. This was only the beginning. 

"Kiss his boots and thank him for letting you sleep in the kennels. You don't deserve it, so show him how happy you are to be allowed to," she told her, standing up again after pushing her away. This was a nightmare for Patsy, and she couldn't believe that her own sister liked watching her suffer like this, to be humiliated. She didn't stop to sniffle as she did as she was told, kissing Ramsay's boots while she feared for her sister to threaten her again. 

Mira and Ramsay walked with Patsy behind her, and she almost fell to the ground with the arrow in her leg. She kept pleading and begging, but she was either ignored or laughed at. Her true life ended, and now she became the plaything of her own sister and a twisted lord. Patsy's tears never stopped flowing.


	12. Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mira's interest in Sansa grows. Patsy isn't lucky.

"Please! Let me go! This is wrong!" Patsy whined as she struggled in Ramsay's grip. He was dragging her by her torn dress, and all of her squirming and wiggling was completely useless. She was at Ramsay's and Mira's mercy. They were in the courtyard, and everyone could see how she was being brought here like some kind of animal. Mira had taunted her while they were going back, and although she never really got on well with her own sister, it hurt.

Ramsay chuckled along when Mira had fun tormenting Patsy. It was his turn to make her feel horrible soon enough. "Shh. You are arousing attention. Don't be so noisy," he ordered, though it was obvious that he was deeply enjoying it. She reminded him of Tansy, though Tansy had never been so brave to call her sister a witch. She had been a truly boring girl. Patsy was incredibly boring too, but she was here for Mira's amusement, and he allowed it. He liked it watching her enjoying herself. 

"You'll meet your new friends now, dog! They are just like you. Well," Mira corrected herself, "they are strong, dangerous hounds. You, however, are nothing compared to them. They'll view you as the weak worm you are," she told her sweetly, and Patsy cringed, not making eye contact with her cruel sister.

Patsy stared into the direction the loud barks came from, and she started to panic. "Where are you bringing me?" she asked and swallowed a sob, and she only heard her little sister giggle. It was horrible. She should have killed her when she was born. 

"The kennels, you stupid mutt! It's a fitting place for you, sister," Mira answered, and Ramsay's mood brightened when he entered the kennels, his dogs greeting him loudly, throwing themselves against the bars. They smelled the new person, and they started to growl. He let Patsy drop, and she whimpered when her body hit the hard ground. She felt dirty and humiliated.

"Please," she begged, and Ramsay walked around her until he stood in front of her. Patsy tried to look up, tears running down her face, and she hoped that there was mercy inside of him. He only smirked down at her, watching her suffer and cry. "I am sorry for everything, Mira. Please, let me go. I am sorry." She tried to appease her sister, but it was as if she didn't hear it at all.

"Ramsay, I think there isn't a cage left for her. I think she has to share it with one of your hounds," she mused, and she saw the shock in her sister's face. "How about that one?" she asked, pointing her finger at one particularly aggressive dog, and Ramsay smirked wider. He couldn't wait to see the pathetic girl being attacked by his precious hound.

"I think that's a fantastic idea, love. She should be with her own kind after all," he stated, and he heard Patsy sniffle below him. "You poor thing. Look at you." Ramsay looked down at Patsy, and she seemed to have lost the will to live. He knelt down and harshly pulled the arrow out of her leg, and she screamed. Ramsay laughed and threw it aside, walking over to the cage that Mira was about to be in.

Ramsay took out his key and opened the cage, smiling at the drooling hound who bared his teeth as he saw Patsy, and she tried to crawl away. Mira noticed and instantly went over to her, grabbing her by the neck. "Oh no. You won't try to escape. Understood, dog?" she asked as if she talked to an actual dog, but Patsy didn't want to end up like their personal plaything. 

Patsy tried to use her full, remaining strength and pushed Mira away, and she stood. Mira didn't expect her big sister to attack as she fell to the ground, watching her run away, and Ramsay ran after her. She was a very easy hunt, and she could barely run away from them. Patsy only had her last hope, and as soon as he saw her trip and fall to the ground, he knew that he was right. It was a pathetic attempt and gave him and Mira another reason to punish her. They had their own, little toy now.

Patsy shouted for help as she saw the men around her, but they tried to ignore her, knowing that Lord Ramsay knew what he did. Ramsay grabbed her blonde hair and dragged her back, and she started to cry and kick. "Only bad dogs behave that way. It seems that there is so much you have to learn," he told her patiently. 

Mira looked at her sister as soon as she was thrown back to the place she belonged. The ground was hard and cold, and she sobbed when she realized that she couldn't escape. Her knees were bleeding, and her face was covered in dirt. "You just tried to run away. What did we just tell you?" she asked, anger and amusement both present in her voice. 

Ramsay took out a little knife, and Mira's eyes became wide. Patsy cringed as she was on her hands and knees, and the northern lord knelt before her with the sharp weapon in his gloved hand. "We wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't attempted to run away," he explained, raising the knife until it was right in front of her face. Patsy trembled and wanted to beg, but everything that came out of her mouth didn't make sense.

Mira breathed heavily as she stood in front of her sister, watching as the tears fell while Ramsay cut her face. She saw how blood ran down her cheek, and she came closer to touch it with her finger. Patsy moaned in pain, and she stared up at her little sister who licked the blood off of her finger. She couldn't tell if she was in the real world or in the Seven Hells. Mira only smirked at her, and Ramsay removed his knife after he had left a long, new cut on her face. 

Patsy didn't deserve this. She knew that it was terribly wrong. Being tortured by her own sister broke her heart. Ramsay noticed that a bit of blood was stuck to Mira's bottom lip, and he drew closer to kiss her passionately, sucking the red liquid off as he heard her moan softly. He needed her right now. "We'll throw your sister in the cage and then I'll take care of you," he whispered into her ear. Ramsay was rock hard, and he couldn't endure it anymore.

Mira fully enjoyed herself, and she turned away from Ramsay to kick her sister in the face, and it made her cry out louder than before. "We will leave you for a while now, little dog. But don't worry, we will be back soon," Mira told her with a genuine smile, and Ramsay yanked her forward, pushing her in the cage, and the hound was already growling and sniffing at her. Patsy's face looked completely abused, and the fact that her little sister enjoyed tormenting her made him breathe heavily.

****

**______________**

Mira left Ramsay's chambers with a smile on her face and bed sheets in her hands. Ramsay ordered Mira to visit his wife, and of course she knew that he did it for certain reasons. He didn't mind what she was trying to do, and she was convinced that he took a liking to it. She was glad that they had her stupid sister Patsy in their possession. Finally, she was able to treat her like she always wanted to. 

Ramsay gave her the key to the kennels so she could visit her herself if she preferred, and she did. Right now, Ramsay was busy talking to the Stark boys, and she wished that she could be with him. There were so many things to do at Winterfell, and she was happy that she wasn't one of the poor, unfortunate people that were stuck in the dungeon. 

Mira thought about Ramsay's lady, her beautiful red hair, her naked body that she saw as she bathed her. She looked forward to meeting her again, to see her pretty face and those lips she would love to kiss. Sansa had threatened her and revealed that she could in fact become violent if she lost her patience. 

She could perfectly imagine Ramsay taking her whenever he liked, showing her where she belonged to. Mira understood why he couldn't get enough of her. Before she left his chambers, licking his cock while he told her all about the ways he had used her before, she had learned more about Lady Bolton. She was like a wolf who couldn't be tamed. 

Mira was so wet after they tormented Patsy together that she screamed when Ramsay made her come, and she felt like the happiest girl on the world. Being Lord Bolton's servant was a true blessing. Nobody who looked at her for a second would assume what she truly was. 

Mira knew that Sansa was carrying Ramsay's child. Maester Wolkan told him that it was certain. It was quite early, but he was able to confirm it, and it made Ramsay more proud and happy than something ever did. Mira also knew that it meant that Sansa has to be treated with care, but Ramsay would still find ways to toy around with her. The servant thought about visiting her to calm her down with different ways, and Ramsay wouldn't have a problem with it. 

Ramsay told her that she was a true surprise. His old servant Myranda had been jealous, and her death made him sad, but he was happy to have a girl that was open to many things while she wasn't jealous at all. While Myranda hated Sansa and couldn't endure to watch them marry, Mira wanted to join them. He didn't even know that women like Mira existed.

Mira knocked on the door that led to Sansa's chamber. She tried to bite back her smile, but it wasn't easy with the thoughts in her head. Maybe Lady Sansa was particularly irritated today. She heard a voice that allowed her to come in, and so she did. As soon as she entered her chamber, she saw Sansa sitting on her bed, turning her head to look at her. She rolled her eyes and looked away again, probably annoyed by the servant.

Mira walked closer with the bed sheets in her hands, feigning innocence. "I am sorry to disturb you, Lady Sansa. Ramsay has sent me to give you these," she explained, and she waited for Sansa to move away from the bed. But then, she wouldn't mind spending some time before she left, and she placed the bed sheets on a nearby table. Mira sat down on the bed, joining Sansa, and she noticed how her body automatically became tense because of her presence.

Mira was quiet as she sat next to her, and Sansa looked out of the window, not giving the girl next to her attention. Somehow, Mira was amused by it, and she began to watch her. Her eyes were on her chest, and she imagined having her tongue there for a while. She saw her hands, imagining those fingers in her hair, pulling them while telling her what a disobedient servant she was.

Sansa stood up from the bed, not patient enough to keep sitting next to Ramsay's new pet. She wanted her to do what she had to do and leave immediately. The way she kept approaching her was getting unpleasant lately. She looked out of the window, and she was sure that she had heard someone screaming before. Her husband was the cause of it, she just knew it.

Suddenly, Sansa turned around, staring at the servant that sat on her bed. "What are you waiting for? Head to your task and leave me. I am not in a good mood today," she said, but it didn't do anything to make Mira obey her. She didn't know if she felt horrible because of Ramsay or his baby inside her. It was probably both, and Mira didn't make it better.

"Why, my lady? What is it that bothers you?" she asked with concern, looking up as Sansa came closer with a stern look on her face. She didn't want her to bother her at all, and she wouldn't be afraid to push the girl out of the window. Ramsay would find someone new anyway, so she wouldn't be a loss. He probably didn't even remember Myranda anymore. For a moment, she enjoyed the thought of Mira screaming as she fell to her death. At least she wouldn't talk so much after that anymore.

"Ramsay won't play your little, sick games with you if he can't find you. Do you really want to provoke that?" Sansa threatened coldly, almost considering it to make the girl disappear from Winterfell. The handmaiden found it amusing to test her, but it was a big mistake. Mira listened to her attentively, feeling something tingle between her legs. She liked it how Sansa talked down on her, how she was slowly losing her patience. 

"You have threatened me once, my lady, but yet here I am breathing," Mira responded boldly, her eyes wandering over Sansa's body. "Unless you want me to stop breathing for a while," she suggested, looking at the spot that only Ramsay touched when he took her, and Sansa glared at her.

"Leave my chamber. Now," she commanded as she saw Mira's lustful expression. She wasn't some kind of whore, and it was disgusting enough to have a sick husband who tormented her daily. "Or this was the last person you saw before your death," she added, talking about herself. Her fingers were shaking, and she wanted to watch the life leave the servant's eyes. 

"You wouldn't kill your handmaiden, would you, Lady Sansa?" Mira asked with feigned shock. She was standing right in front of her, and the urge to lean forward and pull her torward her was huge. For some reason, she wished for Ramsay to come and watch. "I am only a servant who wants to do her task," she claimed, feeling especially playful. She was curious to see how far she could go until Ramsay's wife would make her words come true.

Mira decided to lay on her bed, sighing in comfort. She wasn't afraid of Sansa at all. Looking around, Mira inspected her room. There was a small table, a window, a rug. It looked liked a normal chamber a lady would have. "I won't ask you a second time, girl. Go, and don't speak to me again. I will make sure that you won't have as much fun as you do now if you don't listen," Sansa almost whispered.

Mira almost moaned at her threat. Lady Bolton sounded so powerful when she used those words. "Go on then. I am helpless. Ramsay isn't near. I am at your mercy, my lady," Mira said before she put her arms above her head.

Sansa grabbed the shorter girl by the hair and yanked her off of her bed, letting her fall to the ground. Mira gasped as her nose met the hard floor, and she smelled her own blood. "You don't deserve to be on a bed, you behave more like a wild beast. I am your lady, and you will treat me with respect," Sansa told her. Mira bit her lip as her clit throbbed, and she didn't want this moment to end. 

"Forgive me, my lady," Mira said sweetly, smiling to herself as she found herself on Sansa's floor. "I was bad, wasn't I? I didn't do what Ramsay told me to do, what you have told me to do," she stated, imagining how Ramsay would watch her right now, the cheeky, wild girl he knew thrown to the ground by his wife. "It hurts," Mira told Sansa, but she didn't care. She wanted the servant to learn and leave.

"I hope it does. I am treating you way too nicely. You shouldn't even be near me," she spat, feeling pure disgust toward the girl. A little part of her enjoyed being above the sneaky servant. She could do anything she wanted to with her. After all, Ramsay was the last person who cared for something useless like a handmaiden. "Nobody would care if you disappeared, are you aware of that? Not a single soul cared for Myranda after she was dead. It was as if she never existed," she told her with a light smile.

"Do it then, my lady. Show me how low I am compared to you," Mira begged with a smile, not caring how desperate she was sounding anymore. She wanted to touch herself, and she pressed her thighs together as she lay on the floor, not attempting to stand up. "Do as you please," she added, and Sansa didn't believe what she was hearing. The more the girl talked, the more she wanted to hurt her. 

"You are disgusting. I am not here to pleasure you. I am saying this for the last time. Leave. Play your games with Ramsay," she told her, and Mira pressed her lips together, suppressing another moan. This was getting better and better. Maybe Ramsay's wife was secretly enjoying it too. She could have already thrown her out, but she remained standing, humiliating her with her harsh words.

"The bed sheets, my lady. They are not done yet," she told her. "May I finish my task before I leave?" Sansa shook her head, utterly annoyed by the girl's dourness. Rolling her eyes, she walked past the servant, and Mira looked at her. She eventually knelt, wiping blood off of her face. 

"I will do it." Sansa opened the door, waiting for Mira to leave. She saw her nose, noticing how she caused it to bleed. It should be a lesson for her. "Leave me. I have important things to do, and you are not worthy of my time," she stated with a cold voice. Mira nodded and got up, stopping before she left the room as she looked up at Sansa.

"As you wish, my lady," Mira said and bowed before she left. She heard how Sansa sighed and shut the door. The servant grinned to herself, thinking about all the possibilities. She imagined Sansa grabbing her head, shoving her face between her legs while ordering her to pleasure her with her tongue. Mira needed Ramsay now. She was overly excited to play with him again, telling her all about his wife and what she had done to her face this time. 

****

**___________**

Patsy startled up when she heard the door to the kennels being opened. She was already whimpering and whining as she heard steps, pressing herself into the corner of the cage. The hound who was watching her every move wasn't helping at all. She didn't understand why Mira and the Warden of the North had decided to capture and torture her for their enjoyment. 

"Hello, dear sister!" Mira shouted cheerfully as she came closer, ignoring the loud dogs. Patsy recognized the sweet, taunting voice and tried to hide, putting her hands over her bloody, dirty face. "I am sorry, but Lord Ramsay is busy now. He'll play with you too soon, I promise," she continued, and Patsy started to tremble.

"Please let me go, Mira! I'll do everything you want, I will leave the North. I will do what you say. Please, sister, please let me go," she begged, her voice almost breaking as new tears threatened to run down her face. Mira smiled gently as she stood in front of her cage, admiring her ugly face as she put her hands away from it. "Please forgive me. Whatever I did, I apologize. Please let me go, Mira."

Suddenly, Mira took the key, opening the door. Patsy thought that her little sister had changed her mind and sat up, looking at her. Mira knelt and stroked her hair, smirking into her face, and she started to cry as she realized that she wouldn't go anywhere. She was a toy now. "Hush. You babble too much, dear sister. You don't want Ramsay to cut off your tongue, do you?"

Patsy shook her head and continued to weep, and Mira took her head into her hands, holding it against her chest. She struggled in her grip, but it was useless. She stroked her back and whispered into her ear, secretly mocking her. Patsy finally learned what she truly was, and she wouldn't dare to treat Mira like a low whore anymore. She always loved talking down on her little sister, but the times changed.

"I like you way better like this, dear sister. Look at you, this is the place where you always belonged!" Mira told her with a happy expression, and Patsy was too traumatized to answer. Her sister had truly become a monster. Mira buried her hand in her hair, pulling it with a smirk on her face. Patsy whined and tried to get away, but she couldn't do anything to stop her. Mira felt comfortable as she sat in the cage, spending time with her big sister.

"Mira, please. Why are you doing this to me? Why?" she asked desperately, and she feared for her fate to become even worse. She would prefer to be dead right now. "Please, Mira, kill me. Get over with it and do what you always wanted to do. Kill me. Please," she begged, but it only caused Mira to raise her brows and chuckle.

"Oh, but we have barely begun! Ramsay has so many toys he wants to try out on you. You know, Lord Bolton had a pet once. His name was Reek. He was just like you, always breaking the rules and trying to escape. Ramsay told me everything. But, Reek learned. He learned what his true place was. You can do it too, sister! It will be fun," she told her happily, and Patsy's eyes became wide. 

Patsy didn't want to end up like 'Reek'. She wanted to go back and live in peace. "No. No. Mira, you can't do this to me!" Patsy struggled in her grip and began to hit her. She used her nails to scratch her, and Mira screamed when she drew blood on her forehead. Patsy was frightened and tried to use her last chance. She pushed Mira away and ran, but the dog immediately followed her. 

She tried to run as fast as she could, believing that the hound couldn't stop her if she was quickly enough. Her hopes were shattered when she felt teeth in her leg, and she let out a dreadful scream as she fell to the ground again. The dog had caught her, and the bite was still hurting. Patsy cried and tried to crawl, but every single move was painful. First she was shot with an arrow, and now the hound had bitten her. 

The hound was growling at her, not allowing her to move nor get away. "You were so close, dog!" Patsy heard a familiar voice, and it wasn't from Mira. She moved her head, only to see Ramsay Bolton standing high, looking at her from a distance. "Were you trying to escape again?" he asked with a loud voice so she could hear him, and she gave up completely. 

Ramsay walked down the stairs and came closer, whisteling, and his hound immediately left Patsy to run torward him. He patted his dog on the head and grinned before he watched his new toy that lay on the ground. Patsy looked up at him, and her lips started to quiver.

"Oh, you poor thing. You can't stop crying," Ramsay said with a mocking pout and knelt, yanking her up by her hair. "If you think that you already felt true pain, you are terribly, terribly wrong. No, we won't kill you. We will break you. You may scream and kick and try to escape, but soon, you'll find yourself kneeling at my feet, just like a good pet should," he whispered into her ear, and she wanted to die.

Ramsay stood up again and smirked down at the crying mess. He wouldn't mind having a female Reek. Breaking the pathetic girl would be amusing, and she would have to witness how her own sister loved letting it happen. Maybe it was the time to get himself a new creature. He grabbed Mira's sister to bring her back, and she didn't struggle anymore. She had given up. 


	13. Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Sansa experience something new. Mira feels lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not continuing this for so long. I am doing it again! :-)

Four months have passed since Sansa was back at Winterfell. She was forced to accept that she and her two brothers were being kept here like prisoners. The sad truth was that she wasn't only that, but Ramsay's wife. Forever. She had decided to go back to Winterfell; she had said it to Jon. It had been an act. When Ramsay was away, she got the chance to write him a letter, explaining to him what her true plan was. She didn't get a response. 

Sansa had a baby inside of her. When she had come back, Ramsay took her like on her wedding night. After this night, Sansa felt numb. She thought about killing the baby, but that wasn't her. She hated it, she hated it so much and it didn't even deserve it, yet she couldn't love it. There was some time left until it would be born; a new Bolton would live in Winterfell and believe that it is his or her home. 

She didn't even want to know how Ramsay would raise the child. It would probably end up as another monster if it lived with him. It was a disgusting thought. The child would watch him hunting people, flaying them or worse. That wasn't a way for a child to live. The Boltons' bloody traditions shouldn't have been continued in the first place. They were powerful because they were frightening people. They weren't merciful or kind or wise. Only cruel.

Ramsay's hand was on her lightly larger belly. Since he knew that it succeeded, and that she was pregnant, he became obsessed with it. He never acted like this before. Instead of being harsh and terrifying, he was saying nice things to her and the future son. He didn't even think that it could be a girl. He was convinced that it was his heir. Sometimes he told her that she was perfect to have his baby inside of her, that she should feel honored to be his wife. 

They lay in Ramsay's bed, and he didn't take his hand off of her body. He was so fascinated by the fact that he would have a child. Sansa found it weird. Ramsay didn't seem like the person to be happy to raise a child. He had her brothers in a dungeon. Ramsay stopped beating them so often. He kicked at them whenever he had a bad day, but for now, he was too focused on his growing baby. Sansa didn't even hear about that twisted servant. 

"This is our child, Sansa. Our little baby boy," he said, almost whispering as he stared at her belly, caressing it softly. For Sansa, his words sounded unreal and way too excited. Maybe it was a side of him she never met, but it was making her uncomfortable just like every other thing that was part of his personality. Suddenly, Ramsay leaned toward Sansa to kiss her. It was a strong kiss, almost passionate. At first, she wasn't doing anything at all but to lay there and endure it, but she forced herself to kiss him back. 

Sansa was happy that Ramsay stopped hurting her in the bed. He still hurt her mentally, but he didn't want to harm his baby. That was the only reason. He didn't care about how she felt. Ramsay's hand went to her hip, deepening their kiss. He moaned her name and whispered things, nice things. It wasn't usual. Sansa didn't know how to react. She simply kissed him to be obedient.

His hand went back to her belly while the other caressed her hair and her cheek. He looked into her eyes and smiled. It was the nicest smile she ever saw on his face. They lay there for a moment, not talking at all. Sansa let Ramsay touch her body. Even though she hated the baby, she was happy that it made Ramsay stop doing certain things. She thought of Rickon and Bran. A tear rolled down her face.

"You are crying," Ramsay said coldly. "Why?" He looked at her belly again, bringing both of his hands on it to hold it. He imagined how he would hold his son for the first time. Sansa didn't plan to cry again, but it was overwhelming. Her brothers were being treated like animals and Ramsay acted as if he were happy to raise a child. Ramsay wasn't stupid, he knew that she hated to see her brothers suffer like that. "Oh, I know. Don't worry, Sansa. You see, your brothers are only in my castle because your bastard brother Jon isn't behaving. As soon as he kneels and swears to obey me, Rickon and Bran are free to go. You should have mentioned that in the letter you sent him a while ago."

Sansa stared at him. Ramsay knew about her secret letter. "You know?" She was so quiet that she thought that Ramsay didn't hear it. He didn't even look at her as he spoke. He was too busy with his future baby.

"I know everything that is going on here, Sansa. Some people are very loyal and tell me whenever a raven is leaving this place. The only people who send ravens are me and you. Don't try hiding things from me, wife," he said, and his voice became dark. He looked up at her, and she was scared. Her hand automatically reached for her own belly, protecting the unborn child without a second thought. "I don't have to punish you, do I, Sansa? You know how much I dislike lies."

"Ramsay," Sansa began, trying to search for a way to explain herself. Now she missed the peaceful moment they had. "You can punish me if you like, but please don't touch my brothers. I beg you. I did not write anything that could harm you. I swear it."

Ramsay was surprised at that. She had been quite cheeky a few weeks before, and now she was different. Honest. "My, my little son truly does change you, wife," he commented, telling her that she wasn't quite the same as she was before she was pregnant. Ramsay liked to believe that his future heir was turning her into a better wife. "You're so obedient lately. You want to protect your brothers all the time, I know that. But, my dear, don't think that I am stupid. I know everything you do, everyone you talk to. Try to fool me again, and it has consequences."

Sansa was relieved and almost exhaled loudly. She calmed down eventually, and both shifted closer to each other. For some odd reason, Sansa felt more connected to him. It must be the stupid baby. Whatever it was, it truly made her behave differently. She didn't want to make Ramsay angry again, or to show him how much she hated him. Their faces were a few inches away from each other; looking at each other without saying a word.

Sansa didn't feel miserable as she lay next to Ramsay. It was such an unfamiliar feeling. The first time since her arrival, she felt calm. As if her hand had its own life, it reached for Ramsay's to hold it. He sure was surprised in a positive way, but he didn't comment on it. He ran his thumb over her hand and saw how she closed her eyes for a moment. Sansa stopped asking herself why she felt that way. It were mere seconds. The way he touched her belly and caressed her changed something. It couldn't be love. Never. But Sansa didn't even know about that anymore. Her mind was completely messy.

She held his hand and didn't want to let go. Sansa opened her eyes, and she smiled at Ramsay. His face came closer in order to kiss her, placing one hand on her cheek to hold her head in place as his lips met hers. He didn't feel her tremble, he didn't see tears. She was not frightened or disgusted. He didn't want to hurt her. Ramsay, for the first time in his life, wanted to protect someone from harm. Both experienced the same thing at the same time, and it became so overwhelming that they chuckled at each other after they kissed.

Sansa didn't want Ramsay to leave her again. She wanted to kiss him and to be held by him. Ramsay wanted her to feel good. Just like his wife, he didn't even question his behaviour. He never felt like this before. He didn't know that it was possible to feel like that. They could stay in this bed until the baby would be born. Neither Sansa nor Ramsay had the intention to leave the other one alone. Sansa's heart was beating faster as she looked into his eyes. They had been so cold before, and now they seemed to be so warm. 

They didn't understand what was going on, and they didn't need to. They only knew that they didn't want it to end. Ramsay and Sansa spent hours laying next to each other, showing each other affection. When it was late, they went to the dining hall to have their last meal before they would go to sleep. They talked about things that made them happy as they ate together. Ramsay teased Sansa and kissed her neck, one hand on her belly, and Sansa kissed his cheek in return.

When they returned and were in Ramsay's chamber, Sansa poured her husband a glass of wine. She sat down on the bed and looked up at him with admiring eyes. She never saw him in that way. As soon as he set the goblet aside, Sansa took his hands and pulled him toward her, making him land on the bed, and he chuckled before he buried his face in her neck. Sansa played with his hair, and Ramsay kissed her. 

Sansa then reached for his hand and guided it between her legs. She let out a moan at the mere touch she wanted herself, looking into his eyes. Ramsay grinned and started to move his hand, softly caressing her flower as she spread her legs further. It felt so good, and Sansa closed her eyes and opened her mouth to let out more noises. He was careful and slow, watching her reactions to know what he should do next to make her moan. 

Sansa was wet, and Ramsay shoved the fabric of her clothing aside to play with her nub. He gently rubbed it with his thumb, and he placed a kiss on her belly. Sansa's eyes were opened again, and the way her husband treated her made her moan once again, and she yearned for his touch. She never felt so safe and loved before. Ramsay's lips met hers again, and soon, he kissed his way down her body while his hand rested between her legs. 

His finger was soon replaced by his mouth, and it was so sudden that she gasped. He kissed her nub and licked her, collecting her wetness on his tongue. Ramsay looked up at her while he was between her legs, and she smiled. She felt wonderful. Her hand was on her belly, and she was realizing that she and Ramsay made the thing that was inside of it. They made a person. Sansa felt something between her legs and came.

Ramsay was still licking her after that powerful moment, and it drove her insane. Sansa leaned back and her head hit the soft pillow. She was breathing loudly. Sansa didn't remember the last time she was being made feel like that. When Ramsay was done, he sat up, caressing her belly with a loving smile on his face. Sansa placed her own hand on his, looking up at him. She then touched his arm, gently pulling him down toward her again. Sansa put her hand on his cheek before she ran it through his hair. They didn't need words to tell each other how they felt. They smiled at each other for hours by now.

Ramsay and Sansa kissed for a while, and she felt his hardness touching her thigh. He only took care of her tonight. He didn't force her to make him feel good. Sansa wanted to give something back, and her hand disappeared in his trousers. She buried her face in his shoulder and made him moan, and she smiled when she noticed him getting closer. Ramsay looked down at her hand, looking at her taking care of him, and the whole evening was enough to make him come in that moment. Sansa kissed him and played with his hair, looking at the sweat that was on his forehead.

It was getting late, and Ramsay helped Sansa to get out of her dress. He then put the thick blanket on top of her before he took his own clothes off. Soon, he was laying next to her, his hands holding her belly as they fell asleep.

****

**___________**

Mira missed playing with Ramsay. Since his wife was pregnant, and since it grew inside of her, he preferred spending time with her instead of with his favourite servant. She was never jealous before. She actually had liked Sansa. Lately, it got boring without Ramsay. A few days ago, she was waiting in the kennels, more excited than ever, snd he simply walked past her without even talking to her. He didn't even look at her. He was acting like a different person. Mira didn't know that Ramsay would be so fond of a future child. 

She was so angry that she hurt Patsy all the time, her sister that was rotting in the kennels. She had become the personal pet of Ramsay and her, and she stopped talking a while ago. She had become so skinny, and her clothes were completely ripped apart and dirty. Mira remembered how Ramsay once spat at her sister because she smelled so bad. She only begged for mercy and apologized, but Ramsay punished her for it. Mira had sometimes bathed her when Ramsay ordered it. Then, they spent some time tormenting the poor girl until she went insane. 

But those times were over. Mira was left alone, and she had to accept that she had to have fun herself until Ramsay would be interested in it again. It was all because of Sansa. If she weren't here, her and Ramsay would have such a good time. Ramsay liked to treat people like shit now and then, but he stopped visiting Patsy, and he stopped playing with Mira. Had Ramsay forgotten about her? Was it a test to see if she was loyal? She never had to worry about it, but now she did. 

Mira stood in the kennels. Suddenly, a bucket was placed next to her. She looked at the man who brought it. "Lord Bolton wants the kennels to be clean," he said, and Mira couldn't believe what she heard. They used to hunt together, to make others feel miserable together. They fucked through whole nights together. The man left the kennels, and as soon as he was out of sight, she kicked the bucket, and the water was now all over the ground. She wasn't his toy he could throw away. If he didn't want to keep her, she wouldn't obey. 

Mira disappeared from the courtyard and decided to go to the woods. She had her bow and arrows with her. She wanted to see something die. The wind in her hair felt good, and she was passing more and more trees as the time passed. She never was angry at Ramsay before. Mira practically worshipped him. He didn't treat her like the other female servants. He always told her that he loved fucking her. Never did Mira assume that one day, Ramsay would have feelings for his wife.

Mira shot an arrow and it landed in a tree. She just wanted to use them, no matter how. If Mira saw Sansa, she would probably hurt her with those. Or Ramsay. She thought about hurting Ramsay. He loved himself more than anyone else, even Sansa. Mira got the right idea and continued to look for prey. Her lord didn't know how furious she could truly get. She was so upset that she could scream.

When Mira returned from the woods, it was dark. She had spent half of the day there, not caring about Ramsay Bolton's orders. Not anymore. Not if he ignored her like that. She walked through the courtyard, her dress getting covered in mud and snow. Annoyed, she returned to the kennels to beat Patsy. She dropped her bow and arrows and walked toward her cage. Mira thought that what she saw wasn't really happening. The cage was empty. Patsy was gone. She was never allowed to be outside of her cage at night. 

Mira kicked the bars out of frustration. Not only Ramsay wasn't there for her, but her dumb sister was gone too. Now she had nobody. She wondered how that stinking beast got away. Mira didn't realize that she was gone for so long. Ramsay didn't pay any attention too, and now their toy was gone. Ramsay's men must be pretty stupid too to let a prisoner run. What did her sister do to escape? It was impossible. She saw that the bucket still lay there. Nobody even bothered to look if she did her task. Mira left the kennels.


End file.
